'If you were carried from this country, for which you seem so wholly suited, where the very rains and winds seem to become you like ornaments, would you regret, do you think?
We must surely all regret! the son to his mother, the man to his country; these are native feelings.' 'You have a mother ?' she asked.
'In heaven, mademoiselle,' I answered.

'She, and my father also, went by the same road to heaven as so many others of the fair and brave: they followed their queen upon the scaffold.

So, you see, I am not so much to be pitied in my prison,' I continued: 'there are none to wait for me; I am alone in the world.

'Tis a different case, for instance, with yon poor fellow in the cloth cap.

His bed is next to mine, and in the night I hear him sobbing to himself.