Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1913-08-21
viii give you q years rem for that

will give you g years rent for that
which viii cost you nothing"
You are like the rest of them" re-
paed the a placing the pitcher Of
tresh water on the table. "All promises.
0ne would think I had only to open
your-name, walk out"
He left the cell, shutting the door
pehlnd him n locking it, and De Lus-
sac lay down on his bed again.
After a while he rose up, drew the
table beneath the window space, stood
on the table and, s%pringing up, chung
10 the window bars. He saw again the
nattlement wall hi against the sky
me the form of a sentry passing along
on the evening before. The sight de-
pressed him. He began to
that in the, Bastile the guardianship
Of prisoners had been reduced to a
science. Drawing the table back to
ITS place he sat down on his bed again.
,hls Tune with his chin between his
hands.
An this is a system" said he. and
there is no system without some flaw.
Let me find the flaw. These %jailers of
mine have been reduced from living
and thinking men to automatic; surely
that Is a point for a mind alive and
fresh to work upon"
Two hours passed, and then the
1aller returned with the coffee and roll
which formed the dejeuner of the Bas-
tile; dinner was served at 2 o'clock.
What time is it?" asked De Lussac.
as he sat down at the table.
Timer" said the man. I'VE have
no need for time here. It's time for
your coffee. Time! Ma fol, if you
once begin about that, you will become
like that merry gentleman down the
passage, who sings all day. The clock
with US is the d%ejeuner hour, the din
ner hour and the supper hour-a very
good timepiece, too" He laughed as
he went u
De Lussac, with a sinking feeling at
ms heart, drank his coffee and crum-
bled his roll. AS he did so he heard
something whisk on the floor. 1t was
the rat. Hastily he flung "a piece of he
roll and the rat vanished with it. The
th1ng and its antics stirred him almost
to terror.
Then, to divert his thoughts, he took
the pen, ink and paper and began to
Write his letter to the governor.
1t was a short letter, simply asking
for an Interview, inc having folded the
sheet he fastened it with a wafer and
directed it. Then he sat down again
on the side of his bed. 1t was at this
moment, perhaps. that he first felt the
put in words. the feeling that time has
stopped-that the hour is no longer a
boat taking us to any destination.
When the jailer appeared at two,
bearing the prisoners dinner, he found
De Lussac seated on the side of his
bed, staring ~vacantly before him.
He refused tho food. He did not even
refer to the letter which was lying on
| the table; he seemed like q man dazed
by a blow. Philosophy, that toy Of he
mind destroyed at once by grief or
pain, was no longer with this unfortu-
nate gentleman. La bastile had at last
got him firmly in her grip. La bastile,
That living pain made from dead stone.
that despair embodied in masonry, had
taken his mind prisoner as we'll as his
body.
The ja:ler withdrew, grumbling to
himself. He knew the symptoms and
he expected trouble At 8 o'clock.
when he brought the prisoner a change
of linen. DE Lussac was no longer
seated on the bed; he was pacing the
cell feverishly. His face vas white.
and he turned such a ferocious glance
on his visitor that the man hastily
withdrew.
Never mind" said he; "a little star
walton will bring him to his senses. We
shall see what he has to say at supper
time"
For half an hour after the jailer left
nm DE Lussac continued pacing the
floor. Then, suddenly, he broke out,
shouting, raving, beating upon he door
with his fists. furious like a trapped
animal. He seemed fighting and strug-
Cling with something; he was strug-
Cling with la bastile.
sThe viewless one, who's integuments
were the walls and the doors, whose
jewelry was the locks, the chains and
the bars, was at last at grips with him.
He had said to himself, Courage! I
will disregard her, l will escape from
her. If l a not leave her in the body,
will kill myself and free my soul.'
She had replied, "It is your soul I
want. Only men of spirit kill them
selves; l will take your spirit away.
Men do not kill themselves here; l kill
their spirits. They make friends of
rats. They are brave, they threaten
get all that, and they die laughing and
singing like that merry gentleman
down the corridor"
Then he struck her and she struck
him. using only his own force in re-
turning the blow. He shouted at her,
and h shouted back in echoes of his
wi voice. He wrestled with her. and
she flung him on the bed.
Spent, foaming at the mouth, hag-
gard and dulled, he lay while she stood
over him-towers and battlements-
armed, silent n victorious. She had
reduced him without killing him. That
was he victory. 1t would go on like
this, the struggle of the soul against
her and her struggle against the soul,
breaking the spirit, ~debasing the man
till he began to play with rats or sing
songs to her like the merry gentleman
down the corridor.
Continued next week.)