“Press, master! I will pull,” said the slave. His voice quivered with excitement. Baudillas applied his shoulder to the grating, and Pedo jerked at it sharply. With a crack it yielded; with a plash it fell into the water. “Quick, my master—lay hold of my belt and follow. Bow your head low or you will strike the roof. We must get forth as speedily as may be.” “Pedo! the jailer said that if alive I was to give a sign on the morrow. He believes that during the night I will be devoured by rats, as doubtless have been others.” “Those executed in the prison are cast down there.” “Perhaps,” said Baudillas, “if he meet with no response in the morning he will conclude that I am dead, and I do not think he will care to descend and discover whether it be so.” After a short course through the arched passage, both stood upright; they were to their breasts in water, but the water was fresh and pure. Above their heads was the vault of heaven, not now spangled with stars but crossed by scudding drifts of vapor. Both men scrambled out of the river to the bank, and then Baudillas extended his arms, and said, with face turned to the sky: “I waited patiently for the Lord, and He inclined unto me, and heard my calling. He hath brought me also out of the horrible pit, out of the mire and clay, and hath set my feet upon the rock. And He hath put a new song in my mouth, even a thanksgiving unto our God.”(9) CHAPTER XVIII IN THE CITRON‐HOUSE Perpetua, at Ad Fines, was a prey to unrest. She was in alarm for the safety of her mother, and she was disconcerted at having been smuggled off to the house of a man who was a stranger, though to him she owed her life. The villa was in a lovely situation, with a wide outstretch of landscape before it to the Rhône, and beyond to the blue and cloudlike spurs of the Alps; and the garden was in the freshness of its first spring beauty. But she was in too great trouble to concern herself about scenery and flowers. Her thoughts turned incessantly to her mother. In the embarrassing situation in which she was—and one that was liable to become far more embarrassing—she needed the support and counsel of her mother. Far rather would she have been in prison at Nemausus, awaiting a hearing before the magistrate, and perhaps condemnation to death, than be as at present in a charming country house, attended by obsequious servants, provided with every comfort, yet ignorant why she had been brought there, and what the trials were to which she would be subjected.