The prejudices of a superior are readily embraced by those under his authority; and, as La Tour approached the fort, every eye glanced triumphantly on him, and every countenance reflected, in some degree, the vindictive feelings of the commander.  But he endured their gaze with stern indifference, and his step was as firm, and his bearing as lofty, as if he entered the gates a conqueror.  A small apartment, attached to the habitable buildings of the fort, which had often served on similar occasions, was prepared; for a temporary prison, until his final destination was determined.  D’Aulney, himself, examined this apartment with the utmost caution, lest any aperture should be unnoticed, through which the prisoner might effect his escape.  La Tour, during this research, remained guarded in an adjoining passage, and through the open door, he perceived, with a smile of scorn, what indeed seemed the superfluous care, which was taken to provide for his security.  The soldiers waited at a respectful distance, awed by the courage he had displayed, and the anger which still flashed from his full dark eye.

In this interval, La Tour’s attention was attracted by the sound of light footsteps advancing along the passage; and immediately a delicate female figure passed hastily on towards a flight of stairs, not far from the spot where he was standing.  Her motions were evidently confused and timid, plainly evincing that she had unconsciously entered among the soldiers; and her features were concealed by a veil, which she drew closely around them.  She flitted rapidly by La Tour, but at a little distance paused, in a situation which screened her from every eye but his.  Throwing back her veil, she looked earnestly at him; a deep blush overspread her face, and pressing her finger on her lips, in token of silence, she swiftly descended the stairs.

That momentary glance subdued every stormy passion of his soul; early scenes of joy and sorrow rushed on his remembrance, and clasping his hands across his brow, he stood, for a time, unmindful of all around him, absorbed by his excited thoughts.  But the voice of D’Aulney again sounded in his ears, and renewed the strife of bitter feelings, which had been so briefly calmed.  His cheek glowed with deeper resentment, and it required a powerful effort of self-command to repress the invective that trembled on his lips, but which, he felt, it would be more than useless to indulge.  He entered his prison, therefore, in silence; and, with gloomy immobility, listened to the heavy sound of the bolts, which secured the door, and consigned him to the dreariness of profound solitude.

CHAPTER XIII.

    That of all things upon the earth, he hated
    Your person most:  that he would pawn his fortunes
    To hopeless restitution, so he might
    Be called your vanquisher.

        SHAKSPEARE.

The first hours of misfortune are generally the most tedious; and the night which succeeded the imprisonment of La Tour appeared to him almost endless in duration.  A small and closely grated window sparingly admitted the light and air of heaven; and, through its narrow openings, he watched the last beams of the moon, and saw the stars twinkle more faintly in the advancing light of morning, before he sought that repose, which entire exhaustion rendered indispensable.