He had torn up his cambric ruffles to write upon, and Mademoiselle de St.Claire had made havoc of her pocket-handkerchiefs for the same purpose.

The Viscount was feebler than ever, and Antoine became alarmed.

The cell should be swept out the next morning.

He would come himself, he said, and bring another man out of the town with him to help him, for the work was heavy, and he had a touch of rheumatism.

The man was a stupid fellow from the country, who had only been a week in Paris; he had never heard of the Viscount, and Antoine would tell him that the prisoner was a certain young lawyer who had really died of fever in prison the day before.
Monsieur the Viscount thanked him; and it was not till the next morning arrived, and he was expecting them every moment, that Monsieur the Viscount remembered the toad, and that he would without doubt be swept away with the rest in the general clearance.