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218 Once more dragged to prison, she did not submit to this second incarceration without a protest addressed to the section of Beaurepaire; its only result being that of leading to the imprisonment and death of the younger Cauchois, son of her landlord, who made some efforts to save her. Taken to Sainte Pélagie this time—a sinister prison, situated in a low, remote quarter of Paris—the great citoyenne was lodged in a narrow cell, only separated by a thin partition from that of assassins and prostitutes, where it was impossible to avoid hearing the foulest language and seeing the most revolting sights, the building where the men were kept facing the wing occupied by the women, who between them kept up a perpetual fire of ribald jokes and indecencies. As she had no option between taking exercise in a filthy room in the company of those miscreants, or of remaining shut up in her cell, she preferred the latter, vainly trying to mitigate the stifling heat of July by wrapping paper and leaves round the bars, glowing with the sun. But her mental suffering rendered her almost oblivious to these trials. The hope of seeing her daughter again, so cruelly foiled, had struck her a heavy blow, and she dared not even indulge in the luxury of sending for her occasionally, lest the girl should attract the attention of the Argus-eyed Hébert and company, and be thrown into prison as the offspring of "conspirators." Such cases were not unknown, and alarmed her indescribably. Grief overwhelmed her; but only for a moment. In her next letter to Buzot, of the 3rd of July, there is no trace of weakness. She says:—

My friend, do not let us transgress so far as to strike the bosom of our mother in speaking ill of that virtue which we buy by cruel sacrifices, it is true, but which in turn repays us by such precious