"Written at Domme, Wednesday, and sent by the hands of Roger and Amanieu." That was the fashion of epistolary correspondence as conducted in those times. "Dear friend" was the salutation to a deadly foe, "God have you ever in guard," when the writer would like to cut the throat of him he addressed. Such was the letter received by Jean del' Peyra. It was not explicit. He had been in the greatest anxiety relative to his father. That he would be put to ransom was his hope, but not his expectation. He looked to the bearer of the epistle for explanation, and then for the first time saw Noémi, her face rigid and ghastly, as though she had seen a ghost, and could not shake off the impression. "Jean," she said, "let them go back. I will tell you all, between you and myself. No, not back. Step aside." When Noémi saw that she and Jean were alone she said-- "Do you not understand? Your father--he has been let down into an _oubliette_." Jean started back as though he had been struck in the face by a mailed hand. "And now," proceeded Noémi, "there is but one chance for him, one way open to you." "Where--where is it?" gasped the lad. "At Domme. No, you cannot storm that castle. It has held out against French and English, and it would hold out against your peasants." Jean looked at her in silence. What other way was open? "You must go yourself to Domme," she said. "And entreat for my father? We will sell all--land, castle, seigneury--all!" "That will not suffice. The Captain would take you and cast you in where lies your unhappy father." "Then what do you mean?" "You must take me." "Along with me--to Domme?" "No, take and confine me here." "I do not understand." "I can--I saw it. I saw it at once when I was in that horrible place, when my father refused to listen to me and I pleaded for him. Then I saw clearly there was no other chance for his life." "And that is----?" "That you put me into the same position." "What, in an _oubliette_?" "Put me in a dungeon, and threaten unless your father be restored, and back here safe by sunrise to-morow, that you will cast me down as he has been cast down." "We have no _oubliettes_ here." "You have precipices." Jean looked in astonishment at the girl. "See, Jean!" she said, and a dark spot came in each cheek, "by no other way can you rescue your father than by going before _him_--I mean my father, and threatening that unless your father be released immediately, you will have me put to the same horrible end." "Never!" "It must be." "It would never be done--never." "Listen to me, Jean. You must have me imprisoned here. Place guards over me and go to my father fearlessly. Say to him that the instant the first spark of the sun lifts over yon hill"--she pointed to the heights opposite--"if the Seigneur and you are not here to stay their hands, you have told your guards to throw me down." "If I were to threaten it, it would not be done."