idea almost drove him mad; it redoubled his strength, or rather his will, bent upon obtaining some information, or a conclusion to the affair. With a portion of
the broken chair he recommenced the noise. At the end of an hour, Louis heard
something in the corridor, behind the door of his cell, and a violent blow, which
was returned upon the door itself, made him cease his own.
“Are you mad?” said a rude, brutal voice. “What is the matter with you this
morning?”
“This morning!” thought the king; but he said aloud, politely, “Monsieur,
are you the governor of the Bastile?”
“My good fellow, your head is out of sorts,” replied the voice; “but that is
no reason why you should make such a terrible disturbance. Be quiet;
mordioux! ”
“Are you the governor?” the king inquired again.
He
