But these poor, ignorant timid peasants would never have done this had they not been led. It was the moral character, the true nobility of the Del' Peyras that had rallied the people around them, given them courage, and directed their blind impulse of revenge into proper forms of retaliation. Was the execution of those ten men of her father's band to be accounted a wanton act of cruelty? Noémi could not admit this. Some such rude administration of justice was rendered necessary by the times. The men who had suffered had merited their death by a hundred deeds of barbarity. It was as though a spell had fallen on the girl. She was exultant, her heart was bounding with pride, and that because her father and his ruffians had been put to rout by their adversaries. The girl was unable to explain to herself the reason of this, but, indeed, she did not admit to herself that it was as has been described. Yet she was sensible that some spell was on her. She had proposed to cast one on Jean. That kiss she had given him had been intended to work the charm. But, alack! there are dangerous spells which a witch may weave that affect herself as much as her victim, and of such was even this. As Noémi paced the terrace, her mind in a ferment, she was accosted by Roger, the good-natured, somewhat impudent fellow who had attended her on her expedition to the Devil's Table. He had torn off his red cross, but he had not left Domme, nor, indeed, the castle. He would no longer share in an expedition against Ste. Soure, but he was not unwilling to do any other service for the Captain. He could now exult over his comrades who had returned from such an expedition with diminished numbers, defeated. He approached the girl and accosted her. Noémi answered curtly that she did not desire to speak to him. She disliked the forwardness of the man. "But," said he, "I would save his life--he saved mine." "Save whom?" "The Seigneur del' Peyra." "What of him?" "He was taken yesterday." "The Seigneur--taken!" "And the Captain is now with him--in the dungeon under the keep." "Doing what?" asked Noémi in breathless alarm. "There is none in the world can save him but yourself; the Captain would listen to no one else." "Save him--from what?" "The _oubliette_." CHAPTER XVI. VADE IN PACE. THE thought of undefined horror conveyed by that word "_oubliette_" for a moment held Noémi as though it had paralysed her. But this was for a moment only, and then she bounded in the direction of the keep. A word must be said as to what an _oubliette_ was. In almost every mediæval castle in France and Germany the visitor is shown holes, usually in the floor, that descend to a considerable depth, and which are said to be _oubliettes_--that is to say, places down which prisoners were dropped when it was to the interest of the lord of the castle to sink them in oblivion.