My hair, which had been black, was plentifully sprinkled with
white, my face was intensely pale and thin, and the eyes were sunk
in dark hollows. I should not have recognized myself. But I laughed
as I handed back the glass, and said, "All flesh is grass, but a
dungeon's no good meadow."

"'Tis for the dry chaff," Gabord answered, "not for young
grass--aho!"

He rose and made ready to leave, Voban with him. "The commissariat
camps here in an hour or so," he said, with a ripe chuckle.

It was clear the new state of affairs was more to his mind than
the long year's rigour and silence. It seemed to me strange then,
and it has seemed so ever since, that during all that time I never
was visited by Doltaire but once, and of that event I am going to
write briefly here.

It was about two months before this particular morning that he
came, greeting me courteously enough.

"Close quarters here," said he, looking round as if the place
were new to him and smiling to himself.

"Not so close as we all come to one day," said I.

"Dismal comparison!" he rejoined; "you've lost your
spirits."

"Not so," I retorted; "nothing but my liberty."