conducted through the courtyard, and found myself at the foot of the great tower, the situation of which I have already described. I was led up a winding staircase to a wooden gallery, and locked in cell No. I, close to the tower, the circular wall of which formed one side of my cell. I found, in this agreeable abode, the regulation prison-furniture; a wretched bed, pushed against the rounded wall of the tower, a chair, a table, and the usual big jar of water. Light came from the inside court, through a window well garnished with bars, and looking on the gallery. Such was my prison, and such were the obstacles I should have to surmount in order to get out of it, but I had no sooner put my foot inside the tower than I resolved to attempt to make my escape, and that as soon as I possibly could. The contrivance, the patience, the hard work, and the boldness of my escape, which I made in full daylight, and with arms in my hand, rendered me somewhat celebrated in the history of Pierre-en-Cize. The castle was destroyed in the Revolution (in 1791), but it
