"Now I must do you a discourtesy," said M. de Villefaramir. "I hope this may be forgiven in one who has had the civility not to order your execution when you had not been convicted of any crime. But alas, you must spend the night in a prison – strictly pro forma, sine veritate sententiarum mearum sí ma nin i yulma enquantuva, you will be released tomorrow."
"Very well," replied Gamgès. "I have endured at sea far worse things than one night's imprisonment."
Villefaramir rang a bell, and a guard arrived. "Blindfold this guest," said the steuard. "Securely, but not so to discomfort him. Lead him to …" And here he whispered something in the guard's ear that Gamgès could not hear. The guard blindfolded Samouard and gently but firmly led him to his cell, which was clean but a little mephitic, and altogether lacking in good "herbe."
Some hours later, several guards led by two unpleasant brutes opened the door to Gamgès's cell and led him out.
"I am free!" he cried, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. "Samouard is free!" His transports were abruptly interrupted when a heavy hand covered his mouth.
"Hola, you rat of the mount of merde, cease your squealing or we will occupy ourselves with you," said one of the brutes.