and frightened young wife. It was about a _belle
demoiselle_--

"Who lived all alone in a castle of brick,
And all in the night-time this lady fell sick;
She had eat of a berry that grew by the well,
And black grow her features--her members they swell;
This lady is poisoned and so she must lie,
All stark in her bower with nobody nigh."

In the midst of this sinister merriment the woman suddenly became
drowsy, and after a few ineffectual efforts to shake off the torpor that
was overpowering her, sank into a profound sleep. This occurred in the
anteroom, and, leaving the snoring amazon to the sole occupation of the
apartment, Lucille hastened to the bedchamber, from which she commanded
a view of the little pavilion, in the window of which she was to expect
the signal of escape.

It was quite dark; and with a heart palpitating so violently that she
felt at times almost suffocating, she watched the hardly discernible
outline of the building from which the signal was to be displayed.

The wicked Norman was snoring under the influence of her narcotics; but
to the accompaniment of her abominable drone what a hell of suspense did
poor Lucille endure! At length, and not until considerably past ten
o'clock, a light gleamed faintly and for an instant in the appointed
spot, and then disappeared. It returned, however, and now shone
steadily. The decisive moment which was to commence the adventure had
arrived. She murmured an imploring prayer, and turned the bolt of the
window which opened on the balcony. Horror of horrors! it was fast
locked; a strong wire grating covered the outside, so that even had she
ventured upon so much noise as would have been necessary in order to
break the glass, she would in that have encountered a further obstacle,
to _her_ strength absolutely insurmountable.

She made up her mind to escape by the outer door of her suite of rooms,
and to risk all on being able undetected to make her exit in that way
from the house. But that door was also locked. She wrung her hands in an
agony of distraction; but she did not abandon the enterprise. Encouraged
by the lusty snoring of the woman, she approached the fauteuil, where
she lay rather than sat. She slid her hand into the sleeper's pocket,
scarcely daring to breathe while she did so. The keys were not in it;
and the woman turned with something like a start in the chair. Lucille
recoiled on tiptoe, holding her breath, until she seemed