My friend, Lord Tanlay, is a philanthropic Englishman who is travelling about to see if the French prisons are more comfortable than the English ones.

Enter, Sir John." Pere Courtois having opened the door, Roland pushed Sir John into a perfectly square cell measuring ten or twelve feet each way.
"Oh, oh!" exclaimed Sir John, "this is lugubrious." "Do you think so?
Well, my dear friend, this is where my mother, the noblest woman in the world, and my sister, whom you know, spent six weeks with a prospect of leaving it only to make the trip to the Place de Bastion.

Just think, that was five years ago, so my sister was scarcely twelve." "But what crime had they committed ?" "Oh! a monstrous crime.

At the anniversary festival with which the town of Bourg considered proper to commemorate the death of the 'Friend of the People,' my mother refused to permit my sister to represent one of the virgins who bore the tears of France in vases.

What will you! Poor woman, she thought she had done enough for her country in giving it the blood of her son and her husband, which was flowing in Italy and Germany.