the gates, till they stopped before a heavy grated door; here they were joined by a third person, closely wrapped in a horseman’s cloak. He opened the door, and taking from beneath his cloak a dark lantern, I was rapidly borne forward to those horrid dungeons, where a ray of daylight had never been admitted. “After passing several massive entrances, they halted at a low door, and it swung upon its hinges; here they threw me down with bitter imprecations, and the _gens d’armes_ withdrew. The individual who carried the lantern then approached me, and purposely turning the light upon his face, I beheld the fiend-like countenance of Wirrion; it was like a blasting vision to my sight, and the powers of utterance were denied me. He tried to laugh, but it resembled the yell of a demon. He gnashed his teeth, exclaiming, ‘Remember Adele!’ and turned the key upon his wretched captive. Oh, what was my agony as the last feeble glimmering of the lamp disappeared, and all around became the darkness of the grave,--still living--still breathing, yet, as I thought, entombed for ever! Happily insensibility crept over me for a time, but of its duration I am unable to speak. I was awoke to recollection by a confused sound which appeared to come from a distance, and then died away. Again the clashing of bayonets and the heavy tread of armed men seemed to approach, but my head was strangely bewildered. In a few minutes, however, I could distinctly hear voices, and recovering in some measure from my stupefaction, as they drew near, I gathered sufficient from their impetuous language to ascertain that another victim was about to be incarcerated in the dreary dungeons, and that victim our faithful friend--the grenadier. When they had reached my dungeon, he refused to proceed,--reproached them with their cruelty to an old man, and added, ‘Life at the longest, must be of short date to me; here satisfy your brutal malice!’ A heavy rush and the rattling of bayonets instantly succeeded, mingled with the curses of the guard; a yell--a wild yell followed, and something fell like a leaden weight, against the door of my dungeon; a bitter groan, as when the heart-strings break, vibrated through the vault, and a convulsive struggling noise, as if some poor wretch lay quivering in his last death-pang.