With a horrible oath, Le Gros Guillem again struck the table and called to the guards. They approached. "Take him"--he indicated Jean--"take him to the _oubliette_ chamber," said he; "let cords down, release the man, and let both go as they will." He flung Noémi's ring on the table, and cast his maimed feet on the pallet once more, and clenched his teeth and knitted his red brows. Jean took up the ring and said: "I will return this to her." The guards now conducted him to the keep. Lights were provided, also cords; the door into the cell was opened; and with a shudder Jean entered. Snatching a torch from one of the men, he went to the breastwork of the well, and leaning over it, let the torch flare down the abyss. "Father!" he cried; "my father!" Then he paused for an answer. There was none. With the link he endeavoured to illumine the depths below, but found that this was not possible. He could see nothing save an awful blackness, in which the rays of the torch lost themselves, without illumining any object. "Father!" again he cried. This time he heard a sound--an inarticulate groan. "Let me down. I must go to him," said Jean. "You cannot take a light with you," said one of the men. "You can carry one down unlighted, and kindle it when you are below," said a second. Jean saw that it was as the men said. The orifice and throat of the well were so narrow that he must descend without holding a burning light. He nodded, and slipped his arms through the loops in the cords. "Give me a candle," said he, and one was immediately handed to him. Then he seated himself on the well-breast, with his feet hanging down inside; and when the men were ready, thrust himself off.