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Chapter 10: Control II - Procedures and Environments
TRUE/FALSE
1. Procedures were first introduced when memory was scarce, as a way of splitting a program into
small, separately compiled pieces.
2. An activation record is a stored log recording each time a procedure or function is activated.
3. A procedure specification includes its name, the names and types of its formal parameters and its
return type, if any.
4. You call a procedure by stating its name, together with arguments to the call.
6. A call to a procedure transfers control to the beginning of the body of the called procedure.
7. A procedure declaration creates a constant procedure value and associates a symbolic name with
that value.
10. When you define a procedure, the parameters you list in the interface are the formal parameters.
11. When parameters are passed by value, the arguments are expressions that are evaluated at the time
of the call, with the arguments’ values becoming the values of the parameters during the execution
of the procedure.
13. Pass by value implies that changes cannot occur outside the procedure through the use of
parameters.
15. If a pointer is passed by value, the procedure cannot modify the contents of the pointer.
18. Pass by name can be described as an advanced inlining process for procedures.
20. In pass by name parameter passing, arguments are not evaluated until their actual use as
parameters in the procedure.
22. In strongly typed languages, procedure calls must be checked so that the arguments agree in type
and number with the parameters of the procedure.
MULTIPLE CHOICE
5. A procedure communicates with the rest of the program through its parameters and through ____.
a. constants c. nonlocal references
b. functions d. overloaded variables
ANS: C PTS: 1 REF: 447
7. The ____ is the memory allocated for the local objects of a procedure block.
a. call record c. activation heap
b. activation record d. heap record
ANS: B PTS: 1 REF: 448
13. If a parameter behaves as a constant value during execution, the parameter is passed ___.
a. by address c. by type
b. by reference d. by value
ANS: D PTS: 1 REF: 451
14. If the parameter becomes an alias for the argument, the parameter is passed ____.
a. by reference c. by value
b. by address d. by type
ANS: A PTS: 1 REF: 452
15. Pass ____ copies in the parameter value, and at the end of execution, copies out the final value of
the parameter.
a. by value c. by value-result
b. by reference d. by address
ANS: C PTS: 1 REF: 454
16. Historically, the interpretation of pass by name arguments as functions to be evaluated was
expressed by referring to them as ____.
a. chunks c. thunks
b. objects d. expressions
ANS: C PTS: 1 REF: 456
17. In a(n) ____ environment, all memory allocation can be performed at load time, and the location of
all variables are fixed for the duration of program execution.
a. dynamic c. global
b. universal d. fully static
ANS: D PTS: 1 REF: 459
18. The ____ maintains the location of the current activation record.
a. environment pointer c. stack pointer
b. activation pointer d. stack register
ANS: A PTS: 1 REF: 462
19. The pointer to the previous activation record is the ____ link.
a. reverse c. control
b. history d. return
ANS: C PTS: 1 REF: 462
20. The local variable ____ stores the distance from the environment pointer.
a. distance c. offset
b. locator d. pointer
ANS: C PTS: 1 REF: 464
22. ____ occurs when multiple access links must be followed to arrive at a nonlocal variable.
a. Access chaining c. Environmental linking
b. Lexical chaining d. Global linking
ANS: A PTS: 1 REF: 468
23. In a(n) ____ environment, activation records are not removed as long as there are references to any
of its local objects.
a. closed c. type safe
b. fully dynamic d. fully static
ANS: B PTS: 1 REF: 472
24. The process of joining a block of free memory with immediately adjacent blocks to form a larger
contiguous block of free memory is called ____.
a. consolidation c. reference counting
b. defragmenting d. coalescing
ANS: D PTS: 1 REF: 474
He held out his hand as he spoke; but the Count put his behind
his back, saying, "My honour can take care of itself, Michael; and I
do not thank you for this insolent meddling."
CHAPTER XV.
There are dull pauses in human life when the mind, however
anxious it may be to speed forward upon its active career, is forced
by circumstances to halt and deal with minor things; as a traveller
on foot, however eager he may be to hasten forward upon his way,
is sometimes obliged to stop and take a small stone out of his shoe,
lest it should impede the whole after part of his journey: and thus,
though we would willingly go on with those in whom we are more
interested, we must linger for a moment or two with the priest and
Madame de Chazeul, in order to proceed more rapidly when we have
related some things which, though not very entertaining, are
absolutely necessary to the right understanding of this history.
The lady led the way to her own chamber, with a step she
intended to be perfectly calm and tranquil, but which, by its
occasional irregularity and sharp jerking movement, betrayed the
agitated and angry feelings which she struggled to conceal. The
priest followed, with his still, even pace, his large dark eyes as usual
bent down, and not a trace of any emotion upon his countenance.
He seemed, indeed, like a moving statue, to the countenance of
which the sculptor had successfully endeavoured to give an
expression of great thought, of mind, and equanimity, but not of
feeling or emotion.
"Madam, you are very learned in such arts," replied father Walter,
with a slight sarcastic curl of the lip.
"I am," answered the Marchioness, boldly, "and I know that father
Walter can make use of them as well as others. But there is such a
thing as overreaching one's self, Sir; and methinks you have done so
in this instance."
She spoke angrily and haughtily; and then, as if feeling that she
had given too much way to passion, she rose, went to the window,
gazed out for a moment, and played with the embroidery on her
dress. Father Walter in the meanwhile remained calm and silent: not
that thought--ay, and even passion, were less busy in his own bosom
than in hers; but he was more habituated to command his own
sensations, and to keep them, like those undercurrents of the sea
which carry ships far astray without producing a ripple on the
surface, from showing, by any outward sign, the course in which
they were bent.
"I deny that I have ever acted otherwise, daughter," replied the
Priest. "I am glad to hear you have hopes of retrieving what has
gone wrong; and I will aid you to the very utmost of my power, not
only to wrest from Monsieur de Montigni the estates of Liancourt,
but also to unite Mademoiselle d'Albret to your son. There are a few
things that I would not undertake to accomplish this; but not from
the motives you imagine,--from very, very different reasons."
"What may they be?" inquired the Marchioness; "if you promote
my views, boldly and unhesitatingly, and I can aid yours, I will,
without scruple. What may they be, good father?"
"Not at all," replied the Priest, somewhat sternly. "That fact could
not be concealed. The very papers showed it, and the attempt to
keep it back naturally produced suspicion and inquiry. If others had
played their part as well as I did, and had watched carefully to
prevent all communication between your brother Michael and his
nephew, till De Montigni had signed, no harm would have arisen; but
my advice was ill followed; they were suffered to meet in private--
how, and when, I know not; but five minutes was sufficient to do all
the mischief. And now it is necessary that I should know what you
are about to do--what are your hopes of retrieving this affair--and
what scheme is to be followed for the future."
The priest waved his hand, and she added, with a smile, "to
enable you to promote the true interests of the Roman Catholic
religion."
Father Walter was about to reply; but at that moment one of the
Marchioness's women entered the room, saying, "Madam, here are
Theodore and one of the men you sent back to Chazeul, who wish to
speak with you directly."
CHAPTER XVI.
Rose spoke little in return, for her heart was too full of manifold
sensations, her mind too busy with thought for many words; but all
that she did say was kind, and even cheerful; for she perceived
clearly his deep anxiety for her, and strove to lighten the load as
much as possible. She assured him that she did not mind the
tempest, that she was accustomed to endure such things frequently,
that her jennet was the most sure-footed beast on earth, that she
doubted not the sky would soon clear; and when she saw how he
reproached himself for all that she was enduring, she reassured him
by expressing her joy and thankfulness at having escaped from an
union, which every moment's thought rendered more odious in her
eyes. Thus they rode on for nearly an hour and an half, sometimes
slowly, sometimes rapidly, according to the nature of the ground: the
horsemen who accompanied them, keeping as close around them as
possible, for even such a dark and stormy night was not without
dangers of another kind, from the state of turbulent anarchy into
which the country was plunged.
At length, however, the rain suddenly ceased; the air became hot
and sultry; the wind died away; and Rose, turning to her lover,
exclaimed, "I told you, Louis, it would be finer soon."
Almost as she spoke, a bright blaze flashed over the whole sky,
illuminating the prospect on every side, which had before been
hidden under the dark veil of night. The trees of the forest on the
right, the wide undulating country on the left, the village and the
spire in the distance, the valley into which they were descending in
front, were all seen for a single instant, as clearly as if the day had
suddenly dawned; while, across the very midst of the glare which
blazed over the whole heaven, was seen a thin and quivering line of
more intense light, beginning near the zenith, and ending apparently
at a tree, some two or three hundred yards in advance, several large
limbs of which, were seen falling to the earth, with a rending and a
crashing sound, just as the darkness swept over the sky again, and
all was night once more.
The horses started at the blaze; and Rose d'Albret covered her
eyes with her hand, while Louis de Montigni checked the speed at
which they were proceeding, saying, "We must go more slowly, dear
Rose. This is unfortunate indeed."
"It may be so, Louis," replied his fair companion, "but storm, and
tempest, and the fierce turbulence of such a night as this, are
nothing in my eyes, compared with the slow and lengthened misery
of, a home without affection, and the living death of, a marriage
without love."
"Look! look, Sir! look!" cried one of the men, pointing forward to
the sky: but the eyes of his master, and of all the party were already
fixed on the same spot, where, in the midst of the heaven, one of
the most extraordinary phenomena of nature was suddenly
presented to them. For a space of several degrees the clouds
seemed to have rolled back, and were seen piled up, in enormous
masses on either hand, like the scenes flanking a wide stage, while
between them spread out an expanse of pale whitish light, with a
red wavy streak below, resembling a plain which has caught the
purple rays of the setting sun. On either hand, from amongst the
masses of vapour, appeared to dash forth bodies of fiery
combatants, horse and foot mingled together, rushing, charging,
overthrowing each other, now mixed in furious combat, now
separating for a moment, now chasing each other over the field.
Again and again the squadrons met, as if in deadly shock, and balls
of fire, as of some unearthly cannonade, crossed the sky in the
midst of that strange scene, till at length, while the fight seemed still
going on, the clouds once more rolled over the whole, and all
returned to darkness.[1]
"The King's, to be sure," replied another; "did you not see how he
drove them back?"
"And which do you call the King's?" asked the young Baron,
smiling to see how readily imagination had seized upon the strange
sight they had beheld, to turn it to the purposes of superstition.
"That on the right, Sir," answered the man. "The King has the
right, I am sure; and besides, I saw him in the front rank with a
large plume in his casque."
"My eyes were not so good," said De Montigni. "Did you ever see
the King, Hugh?"
"Not I, Sir," replied the attendant; "but I am certain that was he,
and his horse was as red as blood."
Now came the most fatiguing part of the journey, for the narrow
path which they were following entered the hilly and wooded
country about Montlandon and Champrond en Gatine, and they were
forced to climb and descend continually, over a road on which the
snow was but half melted and the mud up to the fetlocks of their
horses, while still the torrents poured down from the sky, drenching
their garments through and through. The wind had totally ceased,
but the air was more sultry and close than ever; and both horses
and riders suffered much from its oppressive warmth.
Rose d'Albret became silent from fatigue, for the agitation of the
last twenty-four hours now had its full effect upon her; and fears lest
her bodily strength should give way, added to what she suffered.
There is a calm and persevering endurance which goes far; there is
a light-hearted and hopeful energy which carries one through
innumerable evils; but the greatest burden upon all exertion is the
fear of failing--if once we let apprehension take possession of us.
Rose knew that it is so, and she strove hard, for De Montigni's sake,
to banish all such alarm; but the time seemed very weary, the way
interminably long. She looked anxiously for the first, grey light of
morning. More than once--when at the bottom of a hill--she thought
she saw some streaks of light over the brow; and as often she was
disappointed, till at length, as they issued forth from a thick forest
that then lay between Marolles and the edge of La Beauce, her lover
exclaimed gladly, "There, there is the daylight, Rose;" and looking
forward, she perceived distinctly the faint hues of coming day
stretching over the eastern sky, and the dark walls and towers of the
castle of Montlandon on its wooded height, standing out in strong
relief.
That castle offers now nothing but a picturesque ruin to the eye
of the passing traveller; but, at the time I speak of, it was inhabited;
and a beacon fire on one of the turrets, waning in lustre with the
rising light, told that its owner took part for one side or the other in
the civil war.
"No, Sir, oh no!" replied the soldier. "We must change the colour
of our scarfs if we do; for Monsieur de Montlandon is furious for the
Union, and a great friend of Monsieur de Chazeul's."
"With all my heart," cried Rose d'Albret; "this slow travelling in the
darkness is more fatiguing far than a quick pace;" and putting their
horses into a brisk canter, they hurried through Montlandon, before
any of the cottage windows showed signs of waking life. When they
reached Champrond, however, a good many of the villagers were
standing out under the shelter of their doors. The greater part,
indeed, seemed more terrified at the sight of the body of horsemen,
than desirous of impeding their progress, and retreated into their
houses as soon as the white scarfs appeared. But one stout
blacksmith stood before his forge, and shouted as they passed,
"What news from the armies?"
"The King has taken Dreux," replied one of the attendants, in the
same loud tone, "and is marching upon Chartres."
"Ah, dearest girl," he said, "let us stop at the first cottage. You
are faint,--you are ill."
"No, no," she answered; "I can go on, Louis. I am somewhat
tired, but I can go on," and in about five minutes more their guide
exclaimed,
Rose leaned upon his bosom, for she could not support herself;
and, raising her in his arms, he carried her into the hut, where they
found a peasant and his young wife taking their early meal. The
good people of this place seemed to know little, or care little, of
Royalists and Leaguers. They were of the best party, the party of
human nature; and the young woman rose eagerly from the table,
with expressions of kindly compassion, to assist poor Rose d'Albret,
laid her upon her own bed, all dripping as she was, and insisted
upon making her put on some of her own apparel, while she dried
the lady's wet garments at the fire. Fatigue and exhaustion,
however, were the greatest evils under which Rose was suffering;
and De Montigni eagerly asked for wine, as her pale cheeks and
bloodless lips showed him how faint she felt.
"Here is cyder," said the peasant, "but that is poor stuff for such a
lady; and wine we have none."
"Run, Victor, run down to the priest's," cried his wife; "you will get
wine there."
"I am better now, Louis," said Rose d'Albret, stretching out her
hand to him; "do not leave me long. I am afraid of some one coming
while you are gone."
"I will be but an instant, dearest Rose," replied her lover, "and in
the meanwhile our people shall remain round the house. You had
better take off your wet clothes, dear one;" and he added, with a
faint smile, "I have no title to be present at your toilette yet."
The colour came faintly into her cheeks again; and, once more
promising not to be many minutes absent, the young nobleman
hurried away with the peasant, closing the door behind him, and
bidding the attendants remain on guard before the house till he
returned.
The weather, however, had become somewhat finer. The rain had
ceased, except a few drops from a flying cloud, now and then. Rose
looked and spoke cheerfully, and seemed really to have recovered
from the fatigue she had undergone; the fear of being overtaken
had grown fainter with every league they had advanced; and though
the Eure was somewhat flooded by the rains that had fallen, they
soon found a ford. The marks of horses' feet showed that some
persons had passed not long before, and, causing the whole of his
little troop to keep on the left, in order to break the force of the
water, De Montigni led over the lady's jennet, without much
difficulty, and gained the opposite bank.
Thus the happy dreams in which Rose d'Albret and her lover
indulged, during that brief half hour, comforted and refreshed her
more than the repose she obtained at the cottage; but the pleasant
moments were soon interrupted. At the end of the time we have
named, the man who was farthest in advance rode back at speed to
the one behind him, and, taking his place, sent him back to tell De
Montigni that a body of some two hundred horse were moving over
the country before them, in the direction of Tremblay. The first
soldier had halted; and, riding up with the man who served them as
guide, De Montigni asked him, with some anxiety, if he had been
seen. The reply was in the negative; and a consultation was held as
to what course should now be pursued, in order to avoid
encountering the party which he had observed. It was at length
determined to take the cross roads to the east, and, once more the
Eure, to endeavour to reach the King's camp at Dreux, from the side
of Paris.
"We shall have better roads there, Sir," said their guide, "and shall
run less risk; for the country about Hauteville, Poigny, Epernon, and
Maintenon generally holds for the King."
"It will lengthen the way," replied De Montigni; "and I fear for
Mademoiselle d'Albret."
This plan was accordingly followed; and, in less than the time
mentioned Nogent Leroy was reached, without any further peril or
impediment. Though, as the guide had described it, the place was in
fact but a village, yet gates, and freshly erected barricades gave it at
that time the air of a town; and the marks of musket-balls, in the
wood-work of the palisade, showed that it had been fiercely
attacked and had shown a gallant resistance. The little party was
stopped for a moment at the barriers, but the white scarfs worn by
De Montigni's men, and the answer of "Vive le Roi!" to the "Qui
vive?" of the guard, soon obtained them admission; and, riding on
down the street, they reached a small but clean and neat looking
inn, over the door of which was written the usual inscription,
"Lodging for man and horse."
The host came out to meet them, showed them into a room
strewed with rushes, called forth his wife in eager and imperative
tones to wait upon the lady, and began in the same breath to ask
tidings of his guests, and to communicate all the information which
he himself possessed. The intelligence he afforded indeed was much
more important than any that De Montigni could supply in return; for
the very first news he gave imported, that a battle might be
expected every hour, that the two armies must be within a few
leagues of each other, and that parties of Leaguers and Royalists
were hurrying up from every quarter to swell the ranks of Mayenne
and the King.
Rose indeed could scarcely view the matter so cheerfully; but she
would not show her apprehensions, and only asked what course her
lover would pursue, if it should be found that a battle had been
fought and lost by the King, before they reached his camp.
"That cannot well be, dear Rose," replied De Montigni; "for I trust
we shall reach his camp to-night. They say he has raised the siege
of Dreux, and is now at Annet. You can take three or four hours' rest
here, and yet reach that place before dark. We must do so, if
possible; for in case of success we shall then be free from danger:
and in case of reverse we shall have the means of judging in what
direction to turn our steps. If further flight should be necessary,
which heaven forbid! I know that my own dear Rose will not hesitate
to give me her hand at once, to remove all chance of separation;
and I would fain obtain the King's written sanction to our union, to
obviate all difficulties, before a battle takes place--the event of which
is always doubtful."
CHAPTER XVII.
It was once more night--dark, solemn, and sad: the country was a
wide undulating plain raised high above the course of the river,
which might be heard, swelled by the melting of the snows and the
heavy rains that had lately fallen, rushing on with a hoarse murmur
through its hollow banks. No hedge-rows, as in England, diversified
the scene by daylight, or gave, even in the obscurity of night, that
appearance of care and culture which always brings with it the idea
of comfort. On the contrary, all was bleak, wide, and desolate. The
sight lost itself in the dark expanse, except where part of a distant
village might be faintly seen by a sort of lurid glare that hung over it,
rising in black masses against the sky upon the right, with its tall yet
heavy spire towering above the rest, and where, towards the left, an
indefinite something, confused and vague, rested upon the horizon,
as if the rounded tops of trees bounded the plain in that direction.
Such was the scene through which Louis de Montigni travelled slowly
with Rose d'Albret on the night of the 15th. She was weary,
exhausted, anxious; and he, with his heart sinking on her account,
looked forward into the deep and sombre scene before him, seeking
some object to give hope of repose and shelter, but finding little to
encourage or console.
Suddenly a light flitted along by the side of the village, feeble and
small as a glow-worm's lamp: but still it raised expectation; and De
Montigni said in a low voice, "Surely, that must be St. André."
"Perhaps the King may not be there either, Louis," replied Rose in
a faint tone: "all these reports may be as false as that he was at
Annet. But, whatever be the case, De Montigni, I fear I must stop at
the first houses; for, to say truth, I can go no farther."
"Thank God!" replied Rose d'Albret: but she said no more; for
with the sense of relief which she experienced at the thought of
finding repose even for a night, were mingled manifold doubts and
apprehensions regarding the future, as well as all the complicated
emotions which might well thrill through a woman's heart, at the
idea of presenting herself before the many eyes of a strange court,
under such circumstances, and at such a moment.
As they advanced, and turned the low wall of a small farm, a new
scene broke upon their sight. The village, which was extensive,
stretched away to the right; and, amongst the gardens and
orchards, a thousand lights were to be seen, either passing along
from one place to another as officers and messengers sped from
regiment to regiment, or fixed though flickering in one place, where
the soldiery had lighted fires to keep themselves warm during the
night and to dry their clothing, wetted by the frequent showers
which had diversified the day.
No challenge was given as they rode on, for the position of the
enemy was now exactly ascertained, and surprise was not expected;
but one or two of the officers advanced to the side of the road from
the neighbouring gardens, and gazed for an instant upon the
passing troop, to see if they recognised any friends amongst the
new comers, as the light of the watch-fire flashed upon their faces.
Round some of the fires the veterans were telling tales of former
wars, and victories long since achieved. At others, one selected for
his voice or skill, was singing; and, whether Papist or Protestant,
whether his song was the gay ballad of the day, or one of the
canticles of the Reformers, it still spoke the fearless expectation of
triumph.
At a slow pace, for the weary horses could hardly drag their limbs
along, De Montigni and the lady advanced till they reached the
entrance of the village; but here a guarded barricade opposed their
further progress; and, as they could not give the word, the soldiers
refused them admission.
"I am seeking the King," said the young nobleman; "send hither
the officer of the watch as fast as you can; for we are very weary
and must have repose."
"It is not for myself, Sir, that I care," answered De Montigni, "but
for this lady, who in truth can go no further. At all events, I must see
the King, if you will kindly cause him to be informed that the Baron
de Montigni is here."
The old officer gazed in the face of Rose d'Albret with a look of
inquiry, not rude but compassionate; and after a moment's pause he
answered, "I think, Monsieur de Montigni, the King expected you.
There was a messenger arrived an hour ago from the Commander
de Liancourt, and your name was mentioned, I know; but I am sorry
to say his Majesty is not now in the village, and may not return for
some hours. You will find him about a league hence, placing the
artillery.--But stay! I will make inquiries: there may be some orders
left for you. Here, Jacques, run up to the King's quarters, and tell
them that Monsieur de Montigni is here. Ask what his Majesty said
about him.--Ah, my poor young lady, you look tired enough," he
continued, as the soldier sped away; "and yet I cannot ask you to
alight and repose yourself, for every cottage is filled to the door with
soldiery--a rude scene for such as you. I can give you some
refreshment, however," he added suddenly, as if the thought had
only just struck him. "Here, D'Avesne, D'Avesne! run in and get out
some wine. In the pannier behind the door, you will find a bottle of
good old burgundy and a horn cup: bring them hither, quick. There,
stand back, good fellows! Did you never see a tired party come in?
They do not want your company."
The last words were addressed to three or four idlers who had
sauntered up, and, leaning their folded arms upon the barricade,
were staring rudely at Rose d'Albret and her companions. They now,
however, walked away with a laugh, which made the warm colour
come back into poor Rose's cheek, as she felt herself the object of
scorn rather than pity. The moment after, the man who had been
sent for the wine returned, and after much persuasion from De
Montigni she took some, though it tasted hot and burning to her
parched lips rather than refreshing. It seemed to revive her a little,
however, when she had swallowed it; and she saw that there would
be need of all her remaining strength: for the picture which
imagination had painted of a royal camp, and of immediate
admission to the King's pavilion, and of a brilliant circle of nobles
forming his court, had by this time all faded away; and she found