and taken
from there before evening."

* * * * *

"Oh, God!" exclaimed Rosen-Aer joining her hands in terror. "We never
thought of that. Such a misfortune is possible."

"We must foresee every eventuality," replied the old man closing his
letter with these words:

"Do not despair, and place your hope in Hesus, the God of our fathers!"

"Oh!" murmured Rosen-Aer in distress, "the faith of his fathers, the
teachings of his family, the sufferings of his race, and the hatred for
the stranger--he has forgotten it all!"

"But the sight of his mother will have brought all back again to him,"
answered the old man. Saying this he gave a pull to the string to notify
Amael. The latter answered the signal in the same way. Bonaik then
wrapped the file in the parchment and threw it to the other side of the
moat. The aim was again accurate. The missive, together with the file,
flew through the air-hole and dropped on the floor of the cavern. After
having informed himself on these further instructions from the old man,
Amael showed himself behind the bars. His eager eyes seemed to ask for
his mother.

"He is looking for you," said Septimine to Rosen-Aer; "show yourself to
him; do not deny him this consolation."

The Gallic matron sighed, and leaning upon Septimine took two steps
towards the window. There, with a solemn and resigned mien, she raised a
finger to heaven, as if to say to her son to trust the God of his
fathers. At the sight of his mother and Septimine, the sweet image of
whom had never left him since he first saw her at the convent of St.
Saturnine, Amael joined his hands, and raised them above his head. His
face indicated at once resignation, respect and happiness.

"And now, my boys," the goldsmith said to the young apprentices, "take
your files and start filing off the bars of the window; I and one of you
shall place the crucible on the brasier and melt the metal. Ricarik may
come back. He must be made to believe that we are busy at the cast. The
door is bolted inside. You, Rosen-Aer, remain near the entrance of the
vault so as to escape into it quickly should that accursed intendant
take it into his head to return here, a probable thing. His early
morning round being done, we hardly ever see him again, thanks to God!
But the least imprudence may be fatal."

CHAPTER X.

MISTRESS AND MAN.

Night has returned. Clad in her monastic vestments, the abbess Meroflede
reclin