’ A sudden frown sprang to the fellow’s face. “I must live, you know. "The Chevalier shall hear of this," whispered the woollen-draper. The chief scene of these disgusting orgies,—the cellar, just referred to,—was a large low-roofed vault, about four feet below the level of the street, perfectly dark, unless when illumined by a roaring fire, and candles stuck in pyramidal lumps of clay, with a range of butts and barrels at one end, and benches and tables at the other, where the prisoners, debtors, and malefactors male and female, assembled as long as their money lasted, and consumed the time in drinking, smoking, and gaming with cards and dice. He panted for a moment with unuttered replies, and then, with a scornful gesture, got up and left the cell. Destruction everywhere marked its course. On the right were several mounted grenadiers: on the left, some half dozen javelin-men. Mr. There was no one to be seen.
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