The Duke's calculations were false, however. He had not reflected that the Cardinal's guards, not knowing where to find the man whom they had orders to arrest, and obliged to feel their way, would be compelled to almost double their journey: and this really occurred. Moreover, as, with the exception of Bouillot, not one of them was personally acquainted with the Count, and he, as we now know, desired nothing so much as the Count's escape, he passed through the midst of them unsuspected, which occasioned them a great loss of time, by compelling them to turn back. We have already narrated how, after the stormy explanation which took place between father-in-law and son-in-law, the latter was arrested, taken by Bouillot to the Isle St. Marguerite, and delivered over to Major de l'Oursière. And now that we have fully explained the respective positions of each of our characters, we will resume our narrative at the point where we left it. CHAPTER VIII. THE PRISONER. We have mentioned that after proof of identity, and perusal of the order of arrest, Major de l'Oursière, governor of the fortress of St. Marguerite, had the Count conducted to the room which was to serve as his prison, until the day when it might please the Cardinal to restore him to liberty. This room, very spacious and lofty, of an octagonal shape, and with whitewashed walls, fifteen feet thick, was only lighted by two narrow loopholes, covered with an under and outer iron trelliswork, which completely prevented any looking out. A large chimney, with a wide mantelpiece, occupied one corner of the room: facing was a bed, composed of a thin palliasse and a narrow mattress laid on a deal bedstead, formerly painted yellow, though time had completely removed the colour. A rickety table, a stool, a chair, a night commode, and an iron candlestick, completed the furniture, which was more than modest. This room was situated on the highest floor of the tower, the platform of which, where a sentry tramped day and night, served as the ceiling. The soldier drew the bolts that garnished the iron-lined door of this room. The Count entered, with a firm step. After taking a glance at these cold, sad walls, destined henceforward to serve him as a habitation, he sat down on a chair, crossed his arms on his breast, hung his head, and began to reflect. The soldier, or rather gaoler, who had gone out, returned an hour later, and found him in the same position. He brought with him sheets, blankets, and wood to light a fire. Behind him two soldiers carried the portmanteau containing the prisoner's clothes and linen, which they placed in a corner, and retired. The gaoler at once set to work making the bed. Then he swept the room and lit the fire. When these different duties were accomplished, he approached the prisoner. "My lord?" he said to him politely. "What do you want with me, my friend?" the Count answered, raising his head and looking at him gently.