Europe resounded with the blare of trumpets and clarions, the reverberations of cannon and the clashing of swords, while skilful needle-women embroidered a purple mantle for the creole's graceful shoulders. On descending the carriage opposite the embattled tower, I was conducted beneath an armored postern, through three gates, along a circuitous route which lay between damp gray walls, down two stairways, reaching at length an iron door through which I was pushed into a windowless dungeon, known as The Black Hole and destined as a vestibule to my grave. I dared not move, fearing to fall into a pit. The only sound I heard was the loud beating of my heart. At last my jailer,--a man having but one eye,--entered the cell. A lantern hung about his neck beneath a sullen countenance. With his rough hand he thrust at me a plate of repulsive food. The light of his lantern illumined the floor. Speedily glancing around, I ascertained that it was free of pitfalls. My enclosure was a damp, moldy, black tomb. In one corner was some straw and a tattered blanket; in another a bench and jug. The next day my keeper brought me a loaf of hard bread and a jug of water. I ate part of the bread and went to sleep. On awaking, I failed to find the remainder. I shuddered. Who was with me? Who had stolen my bread? I was wrought up to a state of frenzy which the entrance of my jailer subdued. I asked him who had taken my bread. He did not answer. Leaving more bread and water, he departed. I ate half my bread and went to sleep. I awoke hungry and sought the remainder. It was gone. The next day I put some bread underneath the straw and lay upon it pretending sleep. A light pattering of feet and shrill attenuated noises seemed to indicate a troop of tiny creatures in the darkness. A hairy coat swept my cheek and O the sickening horror of it!--the sharp teeth of a rat pierced my fingers. With staring sightless eyes, I understood. Rats raced over my body pushed beneath me in search for food, swept their cold tails over my sore face and grunted contentedly while eating the crumbs. I was often roused from the sleep of exhaustion by their shrill disputes or their nibbling my ears and fingers. Chapter VIII THE EXECUTION It has been said that our family were the martyrs of the Revolution. Our parents suffered but they had previously known happiness. But I? What earthly fruit of good had passed my lips? What wrong had I, an innocent boy, committed? As I daily sat in darkness awaiting my bread and water, what a world was revealed to me, Thérèse! Retributive justice demanding an eye for an eye stood in my dungeon. I was called upon to balance the accounts of my delinquent ancestry.