‘I see a large archway, with some ivy over it.’ ‘That’s it; that was the great entrance to the schloss; before it is the fosse--a huge ditch cut in the solid rock, so deep as to permit the water of the Meuse, when flooded, to flow into it. Well, now, if you look again, you ‘ll see that the great beam above hangs exactly over that spot. It was one of the rude defences of the time, and intended, by means of an iron basket which hung from its extremity, to hurl great rocks and stones upon any assailant. The mechanism can still be traced by which it was moved back and loaded; the piece of rope which opened the basket at each discharge of its contents was there not many years ago. There’s a queer, uncouth representation of the _panier de la mort_, as it is called, in the _Chronique_, which you can see in the old library at Rochepied. But here we are already at the ferry.’ As she spoke we had just reached the bank of the Meuse, and in front was a beautifully situated little village, which, escarped in the mountain, presented a succession of houses at different elevations, all looking towards the stream. They were mostly covered with vines and honeysuckles, and with the picturesque outlines of gable and roof, diamond windows and rustic porches, had a very pleasing effect. As I looked, I had little difficulty in believing that they were not a very equestrian people--the little pathways that traversed their village being inaccessible save to foot-passengers, frequently ascending by steps cut in the rock, or by rude staircases of wood which hung here and there over the edge of the cliff in anything but a tempting way, the more so, as they trembled and shook with every foot that passed over them. Little mindful of this, the peasants might now be seen leaning over their frail barriers, and staring at the unwonted apparition of two figures on horseback, while I was endeavouring, by signs and gestures, to indicate our wish to cross over. At last a huge raft appeared to move from beneath the willows of the opposite bank, and by the aid of a rope fastened across the stream two men proceeded slowly to ferry the great platform over. Leading our horses cautiously forward, we embarked in this frail craft, and landed safely in Bouvigne. CHAPTER XV. A NARROW ESCAPE ‘Will you please to tell me, Mr. O’Leary,’ said Laura, in the easy tone of one who asked for information’s sake, ‘what are your plans here; for up to this moment I only perceive that we have been increasing the distance between us and Rochepied.’ ‘Quite true,’ said I; ‘but you know we agreed it was impossible to hope to find our way back through the forest. Every _allée_ here has not only its brother, but a large family, so absolutely alike no one could distinguish between them; we might wander for weeks without extricating ourselves.’ ‘I know all that,’ said she somewhat pettishly; ‘still my question remains unanswered. What do you mean to do here?’