Some years after the date of this history, an immense ventilator was placed at the top of the Gate, with the view of purifying the prison, which, owing to its insufficient space and constantly-crowded state, was never free from that dreadful and contagious disorder, now happily unknown, the jail-fever. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. Can you afford to give this time? There are your own affairs to think of. "Nothing!" echoed the other, scornfully. " "Have I ever broken my word in such matters, that he dares put the question?" rejoined Jonathan sternly. " "Lead the way to it then, Saint Giles," said Jack, in a tone of mock authority. That will be a fine day—it will have to be, when first you set eyes on Italy.
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