Afterward David spoke briefly. He reminded us of the brave traditions of martyrdom and its happy expectancy. We were going to face our fate together, strengthened by our companionship and in the knowledge that our death would create a revulsion of sentiment that would sweep Sanson from power and restore Christianity to the world. They cried out their approval, and there was no face but reflected David’s dauntless resolution. Then it was as if some soul of merriment swept over us all. I saw strangers embracing, there was clapping of hands, and the concluding hymn was shouted so joyously that a slit in the little window overhead was thrust back, and I saw the face of a sentinel stare in on us with something of superstitious awe. The glass must have been sound-proof, like that which enclosed Lembken’s gardens, for, as the slit was pushed back, I heard the cries of the multitude in the courts above: “Sanson! Sanson! Sanson!” they howled. “Out with the Christian morons! To the Rest Cure! The Rest Cure!” The slit was pushed into place, cutting off all sound. Darkness was falling. The little light within the vault faded. Gradually the voices died away. Sometimes a hymn would be started, but mostly we sat silent now, and even the dogs ceased howling, and only stirred and whined at intervals. I heard the little woman’s children whimper, and fancied her motherly face bent over them as she quieted their fears. I only felt Elizabeth’s presence, and that of David, good, fatherly man, on whom I leaned more than he knew. At last the only sounds were the bishop’s mumbling voice, as he talked to himself, and the staccato tapping of his stick on the stone floors. [Illustration: A man near me leaped up and craned his neck, looking into the gloom ] “They are coming,” I heard him say. “They are gathering up the Stockholm fleets. They will be here—” “Who?” I burst out. “The Russians,” he answered gently. “See them coming; big men, with bloody crosses on their breasts.” A man near me leaped up and craned his neck, looking into the gloom. One or two cried out at the old bishop’s words, and some listened and whispered eagerly. Time passed. Most of the prisoners slept. I was still too sick and dizzy from my wound; I waited in a sort of apathy, and I seemed to see Esther within the opening cylinder, and Sanson, creeping like a foul beast of prey toward her. I had been dozing. I started up at the sound of bolts being withdrawn, the heavy door at the far end of the vault was opened, and flashing lights shone in on us. The dogs, awakened, began to howl again. There was the stamping of heavy boots upon the stones, and a detachment of the Guard appeared before us. They numbered seven. Six of them were privates, carrying solar torches and Ray rods; and in their midst stood a tall man with a black beard and a curved sword sheath that clanked on the stones. I recognized in him Mehemet, the Turkish commander.