ds. But this fear proved groundless. Mathilde had
placed a pillow at the outer edge of the sill, for the ladder to run
over; and I had no sooner thrust my hand into the window than it was
caught in a firm grasp and guided to the proper round. Another step
brought my head above the sill: at the next, I had two arms inside the
long, shaft-like opening; my body followed, as Mathilde's receded. I
crawled through; lowered myself, hands and knees, to the couch beneath;
leaped to the floor, and kneeling before the Countess, kissed her hand.

She was standing, and her dress was the same blue robe in which I had
seen her in the same room two nights before. The candle was on a small
table, which held also an illuminated book and an image of the Virgin,
and above which a crucifix hung against the wall. Besides the bed at the
window, there were another bed, a trunk, a chair, and a three-legged
stool.

The Countess's face was all anxiety and question.

"Thank God you are still safe!" said I.

"And you!" she replied. "Brigitte told us you had escaped. I had prayed
your life might be saved. But now you put yourself in peril again. I had
hoped you were far away. Oh, Monsieur, what is it brings you back to
this house of danger?"

"My going has surely made it a house of greater danger to you. It is a
marvel the Count has not already taken revenge upon you for my escape. I
thank God I am here while you still live."

"My life is in God's hands. Was it to say this that you have risked
yours again, Monsieur? Oh, your coming here but adds to my sorrow."

"Hear what sorrow you will cause, Madame, if you refuse to be saved
while there is yet time. I ask you to consider others. Below, waiting
for us, is Hugues, who has enabled me to come here to-night. You know
how that good brave fellow loves Mathilde. And you know that if you die,
Mathilde will share your fate, for the Count will wish to give his own
story of your death."

"But Mathilde must not stay to share my fate. She must go away with you
now, while there is opportunity."

"I will not stir from your side, Madame,--they will have to tear me away
when they come to kill you," said Mathilde, and then to me, "They have
not sent Madame any food to-day. I think the plan is to starve us."

"Horrible!" I said. "That, no doubt, is because of my escape. But who
knows when the Count, in one of the rages caused by his fancies, may
turn to some method still more fearful. Madame, how can you