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Fred Dimaria + 565 Depot St Wilton Me 04294-6605
subdued me—I have been here so long. So long—when were you arrested, then asked the inspector. The 28th of February, 1815, at half-past two in the afternoon. Today is the 30th of July, 1816,—why, it is but seventeen months. Only seventeen months, replied Dants. Oh, you do not know what is seventeen months in prison!—seventeen ages rather, especially to a man who, like me, had arrived at the summit of his ambition—to a man, who, like me, was on the point of marrying a woman he adored, who saw an honorable career opened before him, and who loses all in an instant—who sees his prospects destroyed, and is ignorant of the fate
deeply considered the subject. Now we have in a dungeon about twenty feet distant, and to which you descend by another stair, an old abbé, formerly leader of a party in Italy, who has been here since 1811, and in 1813 he went mad, and the change is astonishing. He used to weep, he now laughs; he grew thin, he now grows fat. You had better see him, for his madness is amusing. I will see them both, returned the inspector; I must conscientiously perform my duty. This was the inspectors first visit; he
deeply considered the subject. Now we have in a dungeon about twenty feet distant, and to which you descend by another stair, an old abbé, formerly leader of a party in Italy, who has been here since 1811, and in 1813 he went mad, and the change is astonishing. He used to weep, he now laughs; he grew thin, he now grows fat. You had better see him, for his madness is amusing. I will see them both, returned the inspector; I must conscientiously perform my duty. This was the inspectors first visit; he
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