What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat. He was confined in the Middle Stone Ward, a spacious apartment, with good light and air, situated over the gateway on the western side, and allotted to him, not for his own convenience, but for that of the keepers, who, if he had been placed in a gloomier or more incommodious dungeon, would have necessarily had to share it with him. ‘And this is not all,’ went on the lady, evidently determined to disclose all her wrongs. That is why you came here, isn’t it?’ ‘Alors, now we know who is the spy, Monsieur Gérard. You'll have it down.
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