"Have hope!" cried the old man with tears in his eyes at the sight of the mother's anguish; "hope!... I have been watching the moss-covered stone at the corner of the air-hole. The water does not rise to it.... It has stopped rising.... See for yourselves!" Septimine and Rosen-Aer dried their tears and looked at the stone that Bonaik pointed out. In fact it was not submerged. Presently even the noise of the water flowing down through the air-hole sounded with less distinctness, and finally ceased altogether. The flood seemed checked. "He is saved!" cried Septimine. "Thank God, the young chief will not drown!" "Saved!" stammered Rosen-Aer in a heart-rending tone of doubt. "And if enough water has poured into the cavern to drown him.... Oh! If he were still alive he would have answered my voice.... No, no! He is dying! He is dead!" "Master Bonaik, some one knocks," an apprentice said. "What shall I do? Open?" "Return to your hiding place," the old man said to Rosen-Aer, and as she did not seem to hear, he added: "Are you determined to perish and have us all perish with you, we who are ready to sacrifice ourselves for you and your son?" Rosen-Aer left the window and returned to the vault, while the old man walked to the door and inquired: "Who is there?" "I," answered from the outside the voice of the apprentice who had gone out with Ricarik; "I, Justin, I have executed your commissions, Father Bonaik." "Come in, quick," said the goldsmith to the lad who carried an empty barrel on his shoulders and had in his hand a basket of provisions, the wine pouch, and a large roll of rope and cord. Re-bolting the door, the old man took the wine pouch out of the basket and going to the vault where Rosen-Aer was hiding said to her: "Take a little wine to comfort you." But Amael's mother pushed the pouch aside, crying in despair: "My son! My son! What has become of my son Amael?" "Justin," the old man said to the apprentice, "give me the stones I told you to pick up." "Here, Master Bonaik, are they. I filled my pockets with them." The old man picked out a small stone and went to the window, saying: "If the unfortunate man is not drowned, he will understand, when he sees this stone drop into the cave, that it is a signal." Father Bonaik took accurate aim and threw the stone through the air-hole. Rosen-Aer and Septimine awaited the result of Bonaik's attempt in mortal anguish. Even the apprentices observed profound silence. A few seconds of intense anxiety passed. "Nothing," murmured the old goldsmith with his eyes fixed upon the air-hole. "He is dead!" cried Rosen-Aer, held by Septimine in her arms. "I shall never more see my son!"