My uncle was absent several days, and came back in anything but a good humor. He had not succeeded in finding the treasure, if there was any to find, neither had he succeeded in letting the land. The house, having been reduced by the fire to a mere empty shell, had partly fallen in and filled up the cellars, while of the vault under the chapel, he said the whole floor seemed to have sunk into some abyss. "So there really was a cavern underneath," I said. "There was a tradition to that effect, and my father always believed that such a cavern existed, and that it had some connection with the sea." "It might have a connection with the infernal regions, judging from the sounds which proceed from it," said my uncle. "I was near falling into it headlong. It is the more vexatious because there are niches around the wall which have evidently been built up—one even quite lately." "And they are quite inaccessible?" said my aunt. "Oh, entirely. The whole building is so ruinous that one enters it only at the risk of one's life." "The niches are only burial-places," I ventured to say, thinking at the same time that poor Grace's grave would now at least be safe from insult. "Yes, but they may have been used for deposits of another sort. However, there is no use in thinking more about the matter. You are looking better, Vevette. I am glad to see you try to put on a more cheerful face. Your countenance lately has been a perpetual kill-joy—fit only for a convent of Carmelites." Indeed, my health had improved. The very thought of escape, impracticable as it seemed at present, had put new life into me. I began to take a little care of myself, and to be anxious to acquire strength. "I do not think, my friend, that the convent of the Carmelites will be Vevette's vocation," said my aunt, smiling. "I have an affair of great importance to lay before you when we are at leisure."