as I laid in the engineer's arms. He licked my face again and
again. Then my hand was taken; I felt a kiss and heard a weak voice
murmuring: "Remi! oh, Remi!"

It was Mattia. I smiled at him, then I glanced round.

A mass of people were crowded together in two straight rows, leaving a
passage down the center. It was a silent crowd, for they had been
requested not to excite us by their cries, but their looks spoke for
their lips. In the first row I seemed to see some white surplices and
gilt ornaments which shone in the sun. They were the priests, who had
come to the entrance of the mine to offer prayers for our deliverance.
When we were brought out, they went down on their knees in the dust.

Twenty arms were stretched out to take me, but the engineer would not
give me up. He carried me to the offices, where beds had been prepared
to receive us.

Two days later I was walking down the village street followed by Mattia,
Alexix, and Capi. There were some who came and shook me by the hands
with tears in their eyes, and there were others who turned away their
heads. These were in mourning, and they asked themselves bitterly why
this orphan child had been saved when their fathers and sons were still
in the mine, ghastly corpses, drifting hither and thither in the dark
waters.

CHAPTER XXIII

ONCE MORE UPON THE WAY

I had made some friends in the mine. Such terrible experiences, born in
common, unites one. Uncle Gaspard and the professor, in particular, had
grown very fond of me and, although the engineer had not shared our
captivity, he had become attached to me like one is to a child that one
has snatched from death. He invited me to his house. I had to tell his
daughter all that had happened to us in the mine.

Every one wanted to keep me at Varses. The engineer told me that if I
wished he would find me a position in the offices; Uncle Gaspard said he
would get me a permanent job in the mine; he seemed to think it quite
natural that I should return to the colliery; he himself was soon going
down again with that indifference that men show who are accustomed to
brave danger each day. I had no wish to go back. A mine was very
interesting, and I was very pleased that I had seen one, but I had not
the slightest desire to return. I preferred to have the sky over my
head, even a sky full of snow. The open-air life suited me better, and
so I told them. Every one was surprised, especially the professor.
Carrory, wh