"My mother was vexed indeed, and spoke angrily; but my father said, ’No; trouble has been close for days, and the house is watched. For me, there need be no real fear. I have friends, and should be set free quickly, but the Duke!—’ "In the end they would not let Duke Philip go, and urged that now it would bring about a greater peril for all of us if he were caught going out or were seen to come forth. "’There is a better way,’ cried my father. ’Quick! Let us all go down to the lower cave.’ The Duke remonstrated, but was cut short, for my father said, ’If you have compromised us, I must judge now what is best.’ And so the Duke gave in, and we were all hurried into the plant-house and down the stairs to the first cellar, where were many of the things so long made ready. My father opened the larger trap, and began with great haste to carry down, with our help, all he had left in the cellar above. Every one aided, and it was no sooner done than we heard a noise in the house, or beyond it. ’The officers!’ said my father. ’Now you are all safe, and I shall soon come for you.’ "He stood a moment, seeming to hesitate, while my mother and the Duke prayed him to come down and close the trap; but at last he said, ’No; it were better my way,’ and shut down the door. "I heard a great clatter of barrel-staves falling on the trap. I think he had seen the need to take this precaution, and it was this made him run for us and for his friend a perilous risk; his fear, I mean, that unless hidden, the trap would easily be seen by any one who chanced to enter the upper cellar. I should have said that my father lifted the trap a little and cried, ’The good God help thee, Claire!’ Then we were at once in darkness, and again the staves were replaced, as one could easily hear. I heard my mother sob, but the one-year-old baby she carried screamed loudly, and this, I think, took up her attention for a time. I was on the stone staircase when my father went by me saying, ’Be good to thy mother.’ I sat still awhile, and, the baby ceasing to cry, we remained thus for a time silent in this appalling darkness, like hunted things, with the terror of the time upon us. "It is a sad story, dear Duke. I wonder how you can wish to hear it again. And will my young friend draw the corks of these bottles, and be careful not to shake the wine?" St. Maur, saying, "With pleasure, yes," went on to draw the corks. "What a bouquet has that Chambertin!" said the Duke. "But go on, my friend." "In a moment or so my mother exclaimed: ’There is something wrong. I must go and see. My husband was to come with us. It has long been so arranged.’ "With great difficulty the Duke persuaded her to run no farther risk. ’If,’ he said, ’your husband has been arrested, you can do no good. If he has not, we shall soon hear, and I, myself, will seek to learn where he is.’