Cowering in a corner upon a heap of straw sat his unfortunate mother, the complete wreck of what she had been. When Claude Du Val was in Newgate thrown, He carved his name on the dungeon stone; Quoth a dubsman, who gazed on the shattered wall, "You have carved your epitaph, Claude Du Val, With your chisel so fine, tra la!" "This S wants a little deepening," mused the apprentice, retouching the letter in question; "ay, that's better. She succumbed to cancer of the breast at age forty-three, it was slow and wasting.
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