They were escorted along the upper corridor, whence they could look down into the main hall on the first floor of the Luxembourg. Here, those prisoners who were happy enough not to be confined under special orders, had the privilege of congregating during the hours of the day and early evening. Looking down upon this scene shortly after the supper hour, Tournay drew a breath of surprise. He felt for a moment as if he were transported back to the days before the Revolution and was looking upon a reception in the crowded salons of the château de Rochefort where the baron entertained as became a grand seigneur. The republican colonel turned a look of inquiry toward St. Hilaire. The latter gave a slight shrug as he answered:-- "The ladies dress three times a day and appear in the evening in full toilet. As for the men, they also wear the best they have. You will see that many wear suits which in better days would have been thrown to their lackeys. Now they are mended and remended during the day, that they may make their appearance at night, and defy the shadows of the gray stone walls and the imperfect candlelight quite bravely." And St. Hilaire himself pulled a spotless ruffle below the sleeves of his well-worn coat. "And so," mused Tournay, "they can find the heart to wear a gay exterior in such a place as this?" "No revolution is great enough to change the feelings and passions of human nature," replied St. Hilaire. "They only adapt themselves to new conditions. Here, within these walls, under the shadow of the guillotine, Generosity, Envy, Love, and Vanity play the same parts they do in the outer world. Affairs of the heart refuse to be locked out by a jailer's key, and these darkened recesses nightly resound with tender accents and the sighs of lovers. Bright eyes kindle sparks that only death can quench. Jealousy, also, is sometimes aroused, and I am told that even affairs of honor have taken place here." "I should never have dreamed it possible," said the soldier, looking with renewed interest upon the moving picture at his feet; from which a sound of vivacious conversation arose like the multiplied hum of many swarms of bees. St. Hilaire leaned idly with one arm on the gallery rail, while he flecked from his coat a few grains of dust with a cambric handkerchief. Suddenly he straightened himself and grasped the railing tightly with both hands. "Good God! can it be possible?" he exclaimed to himself. Tournay looked at him, surprised by his sudden change of manner. St. Hilaire did not notice him, but looked intently at some one in the hall below. Tournay followed the direction of his companion's eyes and saw a young woman, with childish countenance, standing by the elbow of a woman who was seated in a chair occupied with some needlework. "Countess d'Arlincourt," St. Hilaire continued sadly, speaking to himself. "I hoped that I had saved her."