Here were the damp walls, the wooden bench, the window in the ceiling, of which he had heard.

He was soon to learn that he had judged correctly.
His body was granted a week's rest, but during this horrible week he did not cease to upbraid himself as a traitor, and execrate the fate which had used him a second time to hurl a friend and benefactor into ruin.

He cursed himself, and when he thought of the "word" "fortune, fortune!" he gnashed his teeth scornfully and clenched his fist.
His young soul was darkened, embittered, thrown off its balance.

He saw no deliverance, no hope, no consolation.

He tried to pray, to God, to Jesus Christ, to the Virgin, to the Saints; but they all stood before him, in a vision, with lifeless features and paralyzed arms.