In some respects, therefore, the condition of the men might have been much worse.

Still, it must not be imagined that there was any pleasantness in their lives.

Communication between them was not allowed.

Day after day they filled their places without speech; in hours of labor they could not see each other's faces; their short respites were given to sleep and the snatching of food.

They never laughed; no one ever heard one of them sing.
What is the use of tongues when a sigh or a groan will tell all men feel while, perforce, they think in silence?
Existence with the poor wretches was like a stream under ground sweeping slowly, laboriously on to its outlet, wherever that might chance to be.
O Son of Mary! The sword has now a heart--and thine the glory! So now; but, in the days of which we are writing, for captivity there was drudgery on walls, and in the streets and mines, and the galleys both of war and commerce were insatiable.