Cimourdain moved as noiselessly as possible, and when he had drawn near, he fixed his eyes upon Gauvain; no mother gazing upon her sleeping infant could have worn a look more unutterably tender. The expression was probably beyond his control; he pressed his clenched hands against his eyes as children sometimes do, and for a moment stood perfectly still. Then he knelt, gently lifted Gauvain's hand, and carried it to his lips. Gauvain stirred. He opened his eyes, with the vague surprise of sudden waking. The feeble glimmer of a lantern dimly lighted the dungeon. He recognized Cimourdain. "Ah, is that you, master?" he said. Then he added,-- "I dreamed that Death was kissing my hand." A sudden influx of thoughts will now and then startle a man, and so it was with Cimourdain; at times this wave rolls in so tumultuously that it threatens to submerge the soul. But Cimourdain's deep soul gave forth no sign; he could but utter the word "Gauvain!" And the two men stood gazing at each other--Cimourdain's eyes alight with flames that scorched his tears, Gauvain with his sweetest smile. Gauvain raised himself on one elbow, and said:-- "That scar I see on your face is the sabre-cut you received in my stead. It was but yesterday you stood beside me in the mêlée, and all for my sake. If Providence had not placed you by my cradle, where should I be to-day? In ignorance. If I have any sense of duty, it is to you that I owe it. I was born in fetters,--I mean the bonds of prejudice,--which you have loosened; you promoted my free development, and from the mummy you have created a child. You have implanted a conscience in a being who bade fair to prove an abortion. Without you my growth would have been cramped; it is through your influence that I live. I was but a lord, you have made of me a citizen; I was only a citizen, you have made of me a mind; you have fitted me to lead the life of a man upon the earth, and have shown my soul the way to heaven. It is you who placed in my hands the key of truth that unlocks the domain wherein we find the realities of human life, and the key of light to the realms above. I thank you, my master! To you I owe my life." Cimourdain, seating himself on the straw beside Gauvain, said,-- "I have come to sup with you." Gauvain broke the black bread and offered it to him. After Cimourdain had taken a piece, Gauvain handed him the jug of water. "Drink first yourself," said Cimourdain. Gauvain drank, and then passed the jug to Cimourdain, who drank after him. Gauvain had taken but a swallow. Cimourdain took deep draughts. During this supper Gauvain ate, and Cimourdain drank,--a proof of the calmness of the one, and of the burning fever of the other. A certain awful tranquillity pervaded this dungeon. The two men conversed. "Gauvain was saying,--