No!--not utter darkness; for through the narrow slit in the wall a ray of moonlight fell, lighting the figure of La Mothe where he stood, almost in the centre of the dungeon. He was looking towards me, his eyes expectant and shining; but I could not speak, and sat like a stone. At length he made a step in my direction. "Orrain," he said, "have we met at last?" With an effort I rose and took his outstretched hands, and in that moment I knew that the past was bridged over and my sin forgiven. For long we sat together on the stone bench, and La Mothe told me of his life. How, though all thought him mortally wounded, he had rallied at last, and, in thankfulness for his escape, resolved to devote the remainder of his days to God. The spirit of the age fell on his mind, keen and ecstatic at once. In every trivial event he saw the hand of the Almighty, but he saw too the corruption around him. It was for such as he that the light of the new faith shone with an alluring radiance, and soon there was no voice that spoke more loudly for the truth than that of Godefrey de la Mothe. A fatalist above all things, even now, when everything seemed lost, he did not despair. "Nay," he said, "the hour has not come for us to die. God has not brought us together to perish." And the words carried hope with them, even amidst the darkness and lowering prison walls. Then he knelt down and prayed; but I could not, for my heart was raging within me. At length he rose from his knees. "The Lord will hear and answer," he said simply; but I made no reply, sitting with my head between my hands, staring in front of me. So till the moon set; and I must have slept. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder, and started up. It was La Mothe. "Hark!" he said. "Do you not hear?" I listened. There was a distinct murmuring, the clattering of hoofs, the neigh of a horse, and then a cry, faint but distinct: "Vendome! Vendome! Bourbon! Notre Dame!" We sprang to our feet. "The Lord, who preserved His chosen from out of the land of bondage, hath heard my cry, and we are saved!" exclaimed La Mothe, and making our way to the door we listened. All was stillness once more, a stillness that seemed to last for hours, though it was but for a few minutes. At last we heard the tramp of many feet, louder and louder they grew, and then there was a rattling of chains, and our prison door fell open, letting in a stream of light. In the blaze in the doorway stood Vendome and Martines, and behind them a crowd of eager faces. "These are the prisoners, Monseigneur!" said Martines. "And I, Antony de Bourbon-Vendome, First Prince of the Blood Royal of France, stand here on my right and claim them. Gentlemen," and he turned to us, "you are free; follow me!" CHAPTER XXVIII THE ARM OF GOD