Hope of life returned. The heart of Baudillas was no longer chilled with fear and his brain stunned with despair. He worked hard, animated by eagerness to escape. There was a spring of energy in the little flame of the lamp, an inspiring force in the presence of his slave. The bar was thick, but happily the moisture of the place and the sour exhalations had corroded it, so that thick flakes of rust fell off under the tool. “Yesterday, nothing could have been done for you, sir,” said Pedo, “for the inundation was so extensive that the sewer was closed with water that had risen a foot above the opening into the river. But, thanks be to God, the flood has fallen. Those who know the sky declare that we shall have a blast of the _circius_ (the mistral) on us suddenly, and bitter weather. The early heat has dissolved the snows over‐rapidly and sent the water inundating all the low land. Now with cold, the snows will not melt.” “Pedo,” said the deacon, “hadst thou not come, the rats would have devoured me. They hunted me as a pack of wolves pursue a deer in the Cebennæ.” “I heard them, master, as I came up the sewer. There are legions of them. But they fear the light, and as long as the lamp burns will keep their distance.” “Pedo,” whispered Baudillas again, after a pause, whilst both worked at the bar. “I know not how it was that when I stood before the duumvir, I did not betray my Heavenly Master. I was so frightened. I was as in a dream. They may have thought me firm, but I was in reality very weak. Another moment, or one more turn of the rack and I would have fallen.” “Master! God’s strength is made perfect in weakness.” “Yes, it is so. I myself am a poor nothing. Oh, that I had the manhood of Marcianus!” “Press against the bar, master. With a little force it will yield.” Pedo removed the lamp that he had suspended by a hook from the crossbar. Baudillas threw himself with his full weight against the grating, and the stanchion did actually snap under the impact, at the place where filed. “That is well,” said the slave. “Thy side of the bar is also nearly rasped through. Then we must saw across this upright staff of iron. To my thinking it is not fastened below.” “It is not. I have thrust my foot between it and the paving. Methinks it ends in a spike and barbs.” “If it please God that we remove the grating, then thou must follow me, bending low.” “Is the distance great?” “Sixty‐four paces of thine; of mine, more, as I do but hobble.” “Hah! this is ill‐luck.” With the energy of filing, and owing to the loosened condition of the bar, the lamp had been displaced, and it fell from where it had been suspended and was extinguished in the water. Both were now plunged in darkness as of Erebus, and were moreover exposed to danger from the rats. But perhaps the grating of the files, or the whispers of the one man to the other, alarmed the suspicious beasts, and they did not venture to approach.