e. de Cardoville, Agricola took
one of the long, strong poles that rested against the wall of the
chapel, and, bearing it on his robust shoulders, hastened to rejoin
his father. Hardly had Agricola passed the fence, to direct his steps
towards the chapel, obscured in shadow, than Mdlle. de Cardoville
thought she perceived a human form issue from one of the clumps of trees
in the convent-garden, cross the path hastily, and disappear behind
a high hedge of box. Alarmed at the sight, Adrienne in vain called to
Agricola in a low voice, to bid him beware. He could not hear her; he
had already rejoined his father, who, devoured by impatience, went from
window to window with ever-increasing anguish.

"We are saved," whispered Agricola. "Those are the windows of the poor
children--one on the ground floor, the other on the first story."

"At last!" said Dagobert, with a burst of joy impossible to describe. He
ran to examine the windows. "They are not grated!" he exclaimed.

"Let us make sure, that one of them is there," said Agricola; "then, by
placing this pole against the wall, I will climb up to the first story,
which is not so very high."

"Right, my boy!--once there, tap at the window, and call Rose or
Blanche. When she answers, come down. We will rest the pole against
the window, and the poor child will slide along it. They are bold and
active. Quick, quick! to work!"

"And then we will deliver Mdlle. de Cardoville."

Whilst Agricola placed his pole against the wall, and prepares to mount,
Dagobert tapped at the panes of the last window on the ground floor, and
said aloud: "It is I--Dagobert."

Rose Simon indeed occupied the chamber. The unhappy child, in despair
at being separated from her sister, was a prey to a burning fever, and,
unable to sleep, watered her pillow with her tears. At the sound of the
tapping on the glass, she started up affrighted, then, hearing the voice
of the soldier--that voice so familiar and so dear--she sat up in bed,
pressed her hands across her forehead, to assure herself that she was
not the plaything of a dream, and, wrapped in her long night-dress, ran
to the window with a cry of joy. But suddenly--and before she could open
the casement--two reports of fire-arms were heard, accompanied by loud
cries of "Help! thieves!"

The orphan stood petrified with terror, her eyes mechanically fixed upon
the window, through which she saw confusedly, by the light of the moon,
several men engaged