He had changed greatly.

He appeared much older; his dark brown hair was streaked with grey, particularly in front and over the ears.

He was much thinner, had lost at least thirty-five pounds, probably forty or more.
On the whole, however, he looked better physically than he had looked for years before his imprisonment: his eyes were clear and bright; the outlines of the face were no longer swamped in fat; the voice even was ringing and musical; he had improved bodily, I thought; though in repose his face wore a nervous, depressed and harassed air.
"You know how glad I am to see you, heart-glad to find you looking so well," I began, "but tell me quickly, for I may be able to help you, what have you to complain of; what do you want ?" For a long time he was too hopeless, too frightened to talk.

"The list of my grievances," he said, "would be without end.

The worst of it is I am perpetually being punished for nothing; this governor loves to punish, and he punishes by taking my books from me.