The prison of La Force was a gloomy prison，dark and filthy，and with a horrible smell of foul sleep in it. Extraordinary how soon the noisome flavour of imprisoned sleep，becomes manifest in all such places that are ill cared for！
‘In secret，too，’grumbled the gaoler，looking at the written paper.‘As if I was not already full to bursting！’
He stuck the paper on a file，in an ill-humour，and Charles Darnay awaited his further pleasure for half an hour：sometimes，pacing to and fro in the strong arched room：sometimes，resting on a stone seat：in either case detained to be imprinted on the memory of the chief and his subordinates.
‘Come！’said the chief，at length taking up his keys，‘come with me，Emigrant.’
Through the dismal prison twilight，his new charge accompanied him by corridor and staircase，many doors clanging and locking behind them，until they came into a large，low，vaulted chamber，crowded with prisoners of both ***es. The women were seated at a long table，reading and writing，knitting，sewing，and embroidering；the men were for the most part standing behind their chairs，or lingering up and down the room.
In the instinctive association of prisoners with shameful crime and disgrace，the newcomer recoiled from this company. But thecrowning unreality of his long unreal ride，was，their all at once rising to receive him，with every refinement of manner known to the time，and with all the engaging graces and courtesies of life.
So strangely clouded were these refinements by the prison manners and gloom，so spectral did they become in the inappropriate squalor and misery through which they were seen，that Charles Darnay seemed to stand in company of the dead. Ghosts all！The ghost of beauty，the ghost of stateliness，the ghost of elegance，the ghost of pride，the ghost of frivolity，the ghost of wit，the ghost of youth，the ghost of age，all waiting their dismissal from the desolate shore，all turning on him eyes that were changed by the death they had died in coming there.
It struck him motionless. The gaoler standing at his side，and the other gaolers moving about，who would have been well enough as to appearance in the ordinary exercise of their functions，looked so extravagantly coarse contrasted with sorrowing mothers and blooming daughters who were there—with the apparitions of the coquette，the young beauty，and the mature woman delicately bred—that the inversion of all experience and likelihood which the scene of shadows presented，was heightened to its utmost.Surely，ghosts all.Surely，the long unreal ride some progress of disease that had brought him to these gloomy shades！
‘In the name of the assembled companions in misfortune，’said a gentleman of courtly appearance and address，coming forward，‘I have the honour of giving you welcome to La Force，and of condoling with you on the calamity that has brought you among us. May it soon terminate happily！It would be an impertinence elsewhere，but it is not so here，to ask your name and condition？’
Charles Darnay roused himself，and gave the requiredinformation，in words as suitable as he could find.
‘But I hope，’said the gentleman，following the chief gaoler with his eyes，who moved across the room，‘that you are not in secret？’
‘I do not understand the meaning of the term，but I have heard them say so.’
‘Ah，what a pity！We so much regret it！But take courage；several members of our society have been in secret，at first，and it has lasted but a short time.’Then he added，raising his voice，‘I grieve to inform the society—in secret.’
There was a murmur of commiseration as Charles Darnay crossed the room to a grated door where the gaoler awaited him，and many voices—among which，the soft and compassionate voices of women were conspicuous—gave him good wishes and encouragement. He turned at the grated door，to render the thanks of his heart；it closed under the gaoler's hand；and the apparitions vanished from his sight for ever.
The wicket opened on a stone staircase，leading upward. When they had ascended forty steps（the prisoner of half an hour already counted them），the gaoler opened a low black door，and they passed into a solitary cell.It struck cold and damp，but was not dark.
‘Yours，’said the gaoler.
‘Why am I confined alone？’
‘How do I know！’
‘I can buy pen，ink，and paper？’
‘Such are not my orders. You will be visited，and can ask then.At present，you may buy your food，and nothing more.’
There were in the cell，a chair，a table，and a straw mattress. Asthe gaoler made a general inspection of these objects，and of the four walls，before going out，a wandering fancy wandered through the mind of the prisoner leaning against the wall opposite to him，that this gaoler was so unwholesomely bloated，both in face and person，as to look like a man who had been drowned and filled with water.When the gaoler was gone，he thought in the same wandering way，‘Now am I left，as if I were dead.’Stopping then，to look down at the mattress，he turned from it with a sick feeling，and thought，‘And here in these crawling creatures is the first condition of the body after death.’
