As she is now--a cold, hard, composed woman--so she was in her prison in the Temple at the age of fifteen.

You may take it from one who has known her all his life.

And from that moment to this--" The Marquis paused, and made a gesture with his hands, descriptive of space and the unknown.
"From that moment to this--nothing.

Nothing of the Dauphin." He turned in his seat and looked questioningly up toward the crumbling church, with its square tower, stricken, years ago, by lightning; with its grass-grown graveyard marked by stones all grey and hoary with immense age and the passage of cold and stormy winters.
"Who knows," he added, "what may have become of him?
Who can say where he lies?
For a life begun as his began was not likely to be a long one.

Though troubles do not kill.