I stretched my eyes, as one will in the dark, till they ached, but I
could not see even an outline of the walls.
A burning thirst usually follows excitement, and after a time it came to
me and grew while I thought upon it. My parched throat was almost
closed, and I wondered if I were to be left to choke to death. I knew
that in Spain and Italy such refinement of cruelty was oftened
practised, but I felt sure that the Duke of Burgundy would not permit
the infliction of so cruel a fate, did he know of it. But our captors
were not Burgundians, and I doubted if the duke even knew of our
imprisonment. I suffered intensely, though I believe I could have
endured it with fortitude had I not known that Max was suffering a
like fate.
I believed I had been several days in my cell when I heard a key turn in
the lock. The door opened, and a man bearing a basket and a lantern
entered. He placed the basket on the ground and, with the lantern hung
over his arm, unfastened the manacles of my wrists. In the basket were a
_boule_ of black bread and a stone jar of water. I eagerly grasped the
jar, and never in my life has anything passed my lips that tasted so
sweet as that draught.
"Don't drink too much at one time," said the guard, not unkindly. "It
might drive you mad. A man went mad in this cell less than a month ago
from drinking too much water."
"How long had he been without it?" I asked of this cheering personage.
"Three days," he responded.
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