Parlous in a high degree as the situation was for all of them, they did not at this date suffer any special discomfort, the deprivation of liberty excepted. Their captors were satisfied at having them under lock and key, and did not insult their captivity. A gossiping history, which may be history or fable, describes a visit of Latude to one of the political prisoners, a certain M. Roger. The great prison-breaker laughed the Luxembourg to scorn: "A prison? You call this a prison, _mon cher_? I call it a _bonbonnière_, a _boudoir_!" Indeed, to be precise, the Luxembourg was not exactly a Bastille. There were sad and evil days in store for these suspects, but they were days as yet distant. For the present, heart-questionings apart, it was not too dismal a confinement; and rumour went so far as to hint that there were relaxations of an evening which would not have discredited the character of the Luxembourg of history. The palace-prison might be compared to an unseaworthy vessel in which one shipped for a compulsory voyage, in dangerous waters, with a doubtful chart. One might reach port, or founder in mid-ocean. Meanwhile, there was no choice but to sail; and the rotten ship had good berths and was well-provisioned. The Luxembourg was not as yet governed as a prison, the suspects of the Revolution were under no extraordinary restraint, there was no surveillance, and the sentries allowed the prisoners to come and go as they pleased within the wide walls of the palace and its gardens. Their friends called upon them, and they wrote and received letters. One of them had a dog in his chamber which used to fetch and carry messages and packets between the "prison" and free Paris. A confectioner outside was allowed to furnish whatever was ordered for the tables, and the rich paid ungrudgingly for the poor. Plain _sans-culottes_ came in as suspects with the nobles, and were regularly fed by them. "How many are you feeding?" asked one marquis of another. "Twelve; and pretty hungry ones." "Well, what do you give them?" "Meat at dinner always, and dessert." "That's not so bad. My fellows want meat twice a day, and coffee once a week." A strained position made matters easier. The nobles kept apart from the plebs, and took their share of snubs from the "common patriots" whom their purses kept in food; but a sense of general danger minimised the hostilities of class. Succour, whenever needed, was never lacking. The regulation mattress for the beds is described as "of about the thickness of an omelette" and the bolster "of the leanest"; but bolsters and mattresses ran short in a month or two, and the men stripped themselves of coats and waistcoats to make beds for the women. It was a camp or caravanserai, with the style of a court.