, I will remain here, in this Hole, and die like a
Dog, as I am."

"Take comfort, my son," said the Redemptorist Monk. "Time and
Perseverance may, I repeat, enable you to attain your heart's desire.
Meanwhile, console yourself with the assurance that the Fair and Good
Woman, who is your Wife, is out of peril from lawless men. By the same
Packet-ship that brought the Letters from Monsieur Foscue came a Sum
sufficient Doubly to Ransom the Young Woman. The benignant protection of
his Eminence has been extended to her, and she will in a few days return
to France, and to her Father."

"But can I not see her?--cannot I touch her Hand?--can I not press her
Lip?--for one brief moment, and for the last time?"

"It is impossible," answered the Monk. "She is watched, both by Day and
Night, by zealous agents of the Dey, and I have no means of access to
her. 'Twould be death both to you and to myself were I to seek to bring
about a meeting between you. Even now the precious moments are wasting
away. In another hour the Guard will be changed, and your Escape
impossible."

"And how is it possible now?" I asked. "And will no one come to Hurt
through my evasion?"

"It _is_ possible," he repeated. "You have to walk but from hence to the
Outer Gate and the Quayside. Immediately you have departed, the Body of
a poor Christian Slave, of your age and stature, who died this morning
at the Arsenal, will be conveyed here, and garnished with your Chains.
The Dey will be told that you have died in Prison. He loves not to look
upon the faces of those he has murdered, and will take the word of the
Aga, who is in our pay. Come! there is not an instant to be lost. Here
is the key to your Fetters. Unlock them, and follow me."

With a heart that was now elated with the prospect of Deliverance, and
now sunk at the thought that I was still to be separated from my Lilias,
I did as the good Redemptorist bade me, and, casting my accursed
Shackles from me in a heap, limped slowly forth--for the Iron had
wofully galled me. Outside the Dungeon-door stood a couple of Coglolies,
with their Turban-cloths let down over their faces to serve as Masks,
who swiftly unlocked what Doors remained between us and the Sea Rampart.
The Monk pressed my Hand, gave me his Blessing, bidding me hope for
Better Times, and disappeared. Guided by the Coglolies, and, indeed,
half supported by them, I was put into a Boat waiting at the Quayside,
as the Monk had told me, and ten