As Baudillas was supported through the doorway into the inner prison, he turned his head and looked at the brilliant sky above the yard wall. Then the door was shut and barred behind him. All, however, was not absolutely dark, for there was a gap, through which two fingers could be thrust, under the door, and the sun lay on the threshold and sent a faint reflection through the chamber. Nevertheless, on entering from the glare of the sun, it seemed to Baudillas at first as though he were plunged in darkness, and it was not for some moments that he could distinguish the ledge that surrounded the well‐like opening. The jailer now proceeded to strike a light, and after some trouble and curses, as he grazed his knuckles, he succeeded in kindling a lamp. He now produced a rope, and made a loop at one end about a short crosspole. “Sit astride on that,” said he curtly. Baudillas complied, and with his hands grasped the cord. Then slowly he was lowered into the pitch blackness below. Down—down—down he descended, till he plashed into the mire. The jailer holding the lamp, looked down and called to him to release the rope. The deacon obeyed. There he stood, looking up, watching the dancing pole as it mounted, then saw the spark of the lamp withdrawn; heard the retreating steps of the jailer, then a clash like thunder. The door of the _robur_ was shut. He was alone at the bottom of this fetid abyss. Then he said, and tears coursed down his cheeks as he said it: “Thou hast laid me in the lowest pit—in the place of darkness and in the grave.” CHAPTER XV “REVEALED UNTO BABES” On account of the death in the family of the timber merchant, Æmilius left the house and took a room and engaged attendance in the cottage of a cordwainer a little way off. The house was clean, and the good woman was able to cook him a meal not drowned in oil nor rank with garlic. He was uneasy because Callipodius did not return, and he obtained no tidings concerning Perpetua. The image of this maiden, with a face of transparent purity, out of which shone the radiance of a beautiful soul, haunted his imagination and fluttered his heart. He walked by the side of the flooded tract of land, noticed that the water was falling, and looked, at every turn he took, in the direction of Nemausus, expecting the arrival of his client, but always in vain. He did at length see a boat approach, towards evening, and he paced the little landing‐place with quick strides till it ran up against it; and then only, to his disappointment, did he see that Callipodius was not there. Castor disembarked. On the strength of his slight acquaintance Æmilius greeted the bishop. The suspense was become unendurable. He asked to be granted a few words in private. To this Castor gladly consented.