Then coming forward again, and setting her cool, sweet hand upon my forehead, "Hush," she murmured in the accents one might use to soothe a child.
"You are at Canaples, among friends.

Now sleep." "At Canaples!" I echoed.

"How came I here?
I am a prisoner, am I not ?" "A prisoner!" she exclaimed.

"No, no, you are not a prisoner.

You are among friends." "Did I then but dream that Montresor arrested me yesterday on the road to Meung?
Ah! I recollect! M.de Montresor gave me leave on parole to go to Reaux." Then, like an avalanche, remembrance swept down upon me, and my memory drew a vivid picture of the happenings at St.Sulpice.
"My God!" I cried.