“I want to ask you a question,” he said. You are my prisoner, murderer. Then a light seemed to break in upon him. Had this not been the case, he must have refused even to see his Frenchified granddaughter. Her clock had stopped—stopped at the very hour on which she had quitted the Mint! She had not the heart to wind it up again. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. The passage was so narrow that there was only sufficient room for the cart to pass, with a single line of foot-soldiers on one side; and, as the walls of the bridge were covered with spectators, it was not deemed prudent to cross it till these persons were dislodged. He went over his interview with her again, their conversation at dinner-time. He had tossed an honoured name into the mire; he required no prison bars to accentuate this misery.
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