where the battle had been fought. In vain they tried to burst open the
stout oaken door which was their only means of egress--for the tree had,
but a moment before, given way and fallen with a loud crash into the
moat; in vain they strove to cut through one of the panels, or force the
lock from its fastenings. To de Sigognac this delay was maddening, for
he knew that the Duke of Vallombreuse had carried Isabelle away, and
that he must still be with her. He worked like a giant himself, and
incited the others to redouble their efforts; making battering rams
of various pieces of furniture--resorting to every means that their
ingenuity could devise--but without making the least impression on the
massive barrier. They had paused in dismay, when suddenly a slight,
grinding noise was heard, like a key turning in a lock, and the door, so
unsuccessfully attacked, opened as if by magic before them.

"What good angel has come to our aid?" cried de Sigognac; "and by what
miracle does this door open of itself, after having so stoutly resisted
all our efforts?"

"There is neither angel nor miracle; only Chiquita," answered a quiet
little voice, as the child appeared from behind the door, and fixed her
great, dark, liquid eyes calmly on de Sigognac. She had managed to slip
out with Vallombreuse and Isabelle, entirely unnoticed by the former,
and in the hope of being of use to the latter.

"Where is Isabelle?" cried the baron, as he crossed the threshold and
looked anxiously round the anteroom, which was dimly lighted by one
little flickering lamp. For a moment he did not perceive her; the Duke
of Vallombreuse, surprised at the sudden opening of the door, which he
had believed to be securely fastened and impenetrable, had retreated
into a corner, and placed Isabelle, who was almost fainting from terror
and exhaustion, behind him. She had sunk upon her knees, with her head
leaning against the wall, her long hair, which had come down, falling
about her, and her dress in the utmost disorder; for she had struggled
desperately in the arms of her captor; who, feeling that his fair victim
was about to escape from his clutches, had vainly striven to snatch a
few kisses from the sweet lips so temptingly near his own.

"Here she is," said Chiquita, "in this corner, behind the Duke of
Vallombreuse; but to get to her you must first kill him."

"Of course I shall kill him," cried de Sigognac, advancing sword in hand
towards the young duke, who