f wine, and, lifting it towards that face which was always
visible to my soul, I drank--drank--drank!

The rich liquor swam through my veins like glorious fire. It wakened my
brain and nerved my body. The old spring of life came back. This wine
had come from the hands of Alixe--from the Governor's store, maybe; for
never could Gabord have got such stuff. I ate heartily of the rich beef
and bread with a new-made appetite, and drank the rest of the wine. When
I had eaten and drunk the last, I sat and looked at the glowing
torch, and felt a sort of comfort creep through me. Then there came
a delightful thought. Months ago I had put away one last pipeful of
tobacco, to save it till some day when I should need it most. I got it,
and no man can guess how lovingly I held it to a flying flame of the
torch, saw it light, and blew out the first whiff of smoke into the
sombre air; for November was again piercing this underground house of
mine, another winter was at hand. I sat and smoked, and--can you not
guess my thoughts? For have you all not the same hearts, being British
born and bred? When I had taken the last whiff, I wrapped myself in my
cloak and went to sleep. But twice or thrice during the night I waked to
see the torch still shining, and caught the fragrance of consuming pine,
and minded not at all the smoke the burning made.

IX. A LITTLE CONCERNING THE CHEVALIER DE LA DARANTE

I was wakened completely by the shooting of bolts. With the opening of
the door I saw the figures of Gabord and Voban. My little friend the
mouse saw them also, and scampered from the bread it had been eating,
away among the corn, through which my footsteps had now made two
rectangular paths, not disregarded by Gabord, who solicitously pulled
Voban into the narrow track, that he should not trespass on my harvest.

I rose, showed no particular delight at seeing Voban, but greeted him
easily--though my heart was bursting to ask him of Alixe--and arranged
my clothes. Presently Gabord said, "Stools for barber," and, wheeling,
he left the dungeon. He was gone only an instant, but long enough for
Voban to thrust a letter into my hand, which I ran into the lining of my
waistcoat as I whispered, "Her brother--he is well?"

"Well, and he have go to France," he answered. "She make me say, look to
the round window in the Chateau front."

We spoke in English--which, as I have said, Voban understood
imperfectly. There was nothing more said, and