not
counting M. de Boiscoran and Trumence. Do you want me to set them all
free?"

"Blangin!" said his wife reprovingly.

"What? Am I not free to let the prisoners go?"

"Before you play the master, wait, at least, till you have rendered our
young lady the service which she expects from you."

"Certainly."

"Then go and conceal this money," said the prudent woman; "or it might
betray us."

And, drawing from her cupboard a woollen stocking, she handed it to
her husband, who slipped the sixteen thousand francs into it, retaining
about a dozen gold-pieces, which he kept in his pocket so as always to
have in his hands some tangible evidence of his new fortune. When this
was done, and the stocking, full to overflowing, had been put back in
the cupboard under a pile of linen, she ordered her husband,--

"Now, you go down. Somebody might be coming; and, if you were not there
to open when they knock, that might look suspicious."

Like a well-trained husband, Blangin obeyed without saying a word; and
then his wife bethought herself how to entertain Dionysia. She hoped,
she said, her dear young lady would do her the honor to take something.
That would strengthen her, and, besides, help her to pass the time;
for it was only seven o'clock, and Blangin could not take her to M. de
Boiscoran's cell before ten, without great danger.

"But I have dined," Dionysia objected. "I do not want any thing."

The woman insisted only the more. She remembered (God be thanked!) her
dear young lady's taste; and she had made her an admirable broth, and
some beautiful dessert. And, while thus talking, she set the table,
having made up her mind that Dionysia must eat at all hazards; at least,
so says the tradition of the place.

The eager zeal of the woman had, at least, this advantage,--that it
prevented Dionysia from giving way to her painful thoughts.

Night had come. It was nine o'clock; then it struck ten. At last, the
watch came round to relieve the sentinels. A quarter of an hour after
that, Blangin reappeared, holding a lantern and an enormous bunch of
keys in his hands.

"I have seen Trumence to bed," he said. "You can come now, madam."

Dionysia was all ready.

"Let us go," she said simply.

Then she followed the jailer along interminable passages, through a
vast vaulted hall, in which their steps resounded as in a church, then
through a long gallery. At last, pointing at a massive door, through the
cracks of which the lig