Explore "Adventures of the Comte de la Muette during the Reign of Terror" by Bernard Capes on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I was taking exercise one forenoon in the yard of the prison. It was the last black "Prairial" of the "Terror" -- the month, like the girl La Lune, once dedicate to Mary -- and its blue eyes curiously scrutinised, as Cleopatra's of old, the processes amongst us slaves of that poison that is called despair.
As for myself, I yet a little consorted with Hope -- the fond clinging mistress I had dreaded to find banished with the rest of the dear creatures whose company had long now been denied us; -- for five months had passed since my incarceration, and I was still, it seemed, forgotten.