The Little Ball O' Fire; or, the Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall: The Works of G. P. R. James, Vol. XV.James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
History
The Little Ball O' Fire; or, the Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall: The Works of G. P. R. James, Vol. XV.
James, G. P. R. (George Payne Rainsford)
France -- History -- Louis XIV, 1643-1715 -- Fiction
Often--often I asked myself, when was this to end, or would it ever
end? Put in there by two men, to one of whom my freedom might be
dangerous, and to the other of whom anything which afflicted me would
be delightful, how could I tell that I might not be kept there for
years. In the state of the country, at that time, no investigation was
ever likely to take place, no one would, in all probability, hear of
my imprisonment, nobody would strive to obtain my release. Monsieur de
Villardin, doubtless, by this time, thought me dead, and I might feel
perfectly sure that neither Gaspard de Belleville nor any of his
household would suffer my situation to be known, so long as they could
by any means conceal it. Such thoughts formed the only occupation for
my mind, while I could neither find nor devise any other exercise for
my limbs than that which could be obtained by traversing in every
different direction a chamber of ten feet square. It is true I could
occasionally hear the steps and voices of people without, passing
along the ramparts; but the little 'window was so high that I could
not amuse myself by the view which it might otherwise have afforded,
and the merry tones of people at large, as the wind brought them to my
ear, seemed but a mockery of my solitude and captivity.
At length, a slight change was afforded me. After I had lingered on in
this manner for some months, the gaoler fell sick, and his wife
brought me the daily loaf and pitcher of water in his place. She was
not the most prepossessing person I ever beheld, it is true, but it is
scarcely possible to describe the pleasure I felt at even seeing a new
face. The joy that I expressed, it seems, melted her heart, and on the
second day of her coming she brought me a meat meal, the first that I
had tasted since I had entered the prison. Anything that was in the
least degree new was, of course, delightful; but this mark of her
kindness induced me to ask for more, and, showing her that it was
perfectly impossible, from the size of the aperture, that I could
escape by the window if I were permitted to reach it, I begged hard
that she would let me have a chair, or a stool, or a table, in order
to amuse myself by looking out. To this she consented, telling me,
however, that she was sure her husband would take it away again, as
soon as ever he was well enough to resume his official duties.
Nevertheless, every day's amusement I looked upon as something gained;
and in a few minutes after, she brought me a large settle, by means of
which I instantly climbed up to the window, and gazed out.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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