’ Melusine could not regard this view with anything but scepticism. “Quite unusually cold for the time of year,” he said. ‘But this Englishwoman,’ asked the man Valade, his puzzlement plain to see, ‘who was she?’ The question irritated Charvill. Her evident terror and distress reinforced the tale he told. On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. 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.
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