But before we could take possession of our prison, another gate had yet to be unlocked; which admitted us into a large space enclosed within a high wall, and containing the _élite_ of the accommodations. The cells, like those of a madhouse in Turkey, were built round the four sides of a garden; and each had a small entrance-court, paved with stone. As none of the buildings were capacious enough to contain our whole party, it was at length arranged that five of us should take one of them, in which we might make such arrangements as we preferred; and that the three others should be accommodated as near to us as possible. Upon which understanding M. le Directeur, a plump, good-natured-looking little old man, with a bit of soiled red ribbon displayed in the button-hole of a threadbare gray frock-coat, a ruffled shirt, and the funniest of all forage-caps, led the way to cell, or I should rather say _colleve_, No. 2: and when one of his followers had unlocked the yellow and black gate of the court, he bowed ceremoniously to me, as he pointed to two melancholy-looking trees, which had contrived to exist amid the rude paving, and exclaimed with a tone and gesture perfectly dramatic: “_Soyez la bien-venue, Madame; voyez les beaux arbres que vous avez!_” It was extremely fortunate that the day chanced to be one of cloudless sunshine, and that we consequently saw every thing under its most favourable aspect; for there was nothing particularly exhilarating in the interior of the buildings. Windows both barred and grated; walls whitewashed and weather-stained; chairs, tables, and sofa all of wood, which is a “nonconductor,” and whitewashed like the walls; were the only objects that met our eyes. But as we were all both tired and hungry, we welcomed even these; and only begged to learn where we must address ourselves, in order to procure some food with as little delay as possible. This brought us to the second feature of our position; for a window whose shutter was padlocked up, was unfastened; a bell was rung, and at a casement grated like our own appeared the Restaurateur of the Lazaretto to receive his instructions. Dinner was instantly ordered; bread and wine were speedily procured; and we were waited upon by a very gaily-dressed, conceited individual, who announced himself to be “our keeper;” a piece of intelligence which once more carried back my thoughts to the _Timerhazès_, or madhouses of Constantinople; and I began half to apprehend that we had indeed intruded into one of those melancholy establishments. At five o’clock we were furnished with a very bad dinner; bedding was brought in; and at sunset we were locked up.