In
prison one learns several million things--if one is _l'americain_ from
_Mass-a-chu-setts_. When the ominous and awe-inspiring rattle on the
further side of the locked door announced that the captors were come to
bid the captives good night, I was still in the midst of conversation and
had been around the world a number of times. At the clanking sound our
little circle centripetally disintegrated, as if by sheer magic; and I
was left somewhat dizzily to face a renewal of reality.
The door shot wide. The _planton's_ almost indistinguishable figure in
the doorway told me that the entire room was dark. I had not noticed the
darkness. Somebody had placed a candle (which I recalled having seen on a
table in the middle of the room when I looked up once or twice during the
conversation) on a little shelf hard by the cabinet. There had been men
playing at cards by this candle--now everybody was quietly reposing upon
the floor along three sides of The Enormous Room. The _planton_ entered.
Walked over to the light. Said something about everybody being present,
and was answered by a number of voices in a more or less profane
affirmative. Strutted to and fro, kicked the cabinet, flashed an electric
torch, and walked up the room examining each _paillasse_ to make sure it
had an occupant.
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