Were they to be forgotten there?
No; a bell rang in the prison, the grating of the door opened, and an arm held out to the prisoner a pewter porringer and a piece of bread.
The prisoner greedily seized the bread and the porringer.

The bread was black and sticky; the porringer contained a sort of thick water, warm and reddish.

Nothing can be compared to the smell of this "soup." As for the bread, it only smelt of mouldiness.
However great their hunger, most of the prisoners during the first moment threw down their bread on the floor, and emptied the porringer down the hole with the iron bars.
Nevertheless the stomach craved, the hours passed by, they picked up the bread, and ended by eating it.

One prisoner went so far as to pick up the porringer and to attempt to wipe out the bottom with his bread, which he afterwards devoured.

Subsequently, this prisoner, a Representative set at liberty in exile, described to me this dietary, and said to me, "A hungry stomach has no nose." Meanwhile there was absolute solitude and profound silence.