"We hold three prisoners,--the same children who were adopted by one of your battalions, and they are yours. We offer to give them back to you on one condition,--that we be allowed to go free. "If you refuse,--listen to this. There are but two points of attack,--either the breach or the bridge, according as you advance from the fortress or the plateau. There are three stories in the building on the bridge; in the lower one I, the Imânus, who speak to you, have placed six casks of tar and one hundred bundles of dry heather; there is straw in the upper, and there are books and papers in the middle story; the iron door communicating with the tower is closed, and monseigneur carries the key on his person; I have made a hole under the door, through which is passed a sulphur slow-match; one end of it is in a cask of tar, and the other within reach of my hand, inside the tower; I can set it on fire whenever I choose. If you refuse to let us go free, the children will be placed on the second floor of the bridge, between the story where the sulphur-match ends in the barrel and the one which is filled with straw, and the iron door will be closed on them. If you attack us by way of the bridge, you will be the ones to set the building on fire; if by the breach, it will be left to us; and if you attack us from both sides at once, we shall both be kindling the fire at the same instant; at all events, the three children will perish. "It rests with you, now, either to accept or refuse. "If you accept, we depart; if you refuse, the children die. "I have finished," And the man who had been speaking from the top of the tower was silent. "We refuse!" cried a voice from below, in tones abrupt and severe. Another voice, quite as firm, although less harsh, added,-- "We give you twenty-four hours to surrender at discretion." A silence ensued, and then the same voice continued,-- "If to-morrow at this hour you have not surrendered, we begin the assault." "And give no quarter," resumed the first speaker; and then a voice from the top of the tower made reply to the savage one. Between two battlements a tall figure, in which, by the light of the stars, one might have recognized the awe-inspiring form of the Marquis de Lantenac, leaned forward; his glance, piercing the shadows, seemed searching for some one. "Ah, it is thou, priest!" he cried. "Yes, it is I, traitor!" replied the harsh voice from below. XI. TERRIBLE AS THE ANTIQUE. This implacable voice was in truth the voice of Cimourdain; the younger and less imperative one was that of Gauvain. The Marquis de Lantenac had not been mistaken in his recognition of the Abbé Cimourdain.