Throwing herself upon her knees in the passage, by the help of the edge of the cleaver, her nails, which she almost tore bleeding from their roots, and her fingers, which were lacerated and torn, La Louve contrived to extract the huge nails which fastened the door all around. At length her heroic exertions were crowned with success,--the door yielded to her efforts, and Martial, pale, bleeding, and almost exhausted, fell into the arms of his mistress. "At last--I have you--I hold you--I press you to my heart!" exclaimed La Louve, as she received and tenderly pressed Martial in her arms, with a joy of possession that partook almost of savage energy. She supported, or, rather, carried him to a bench placed in the corridor. For several minutes Martial remained weak and haggard, endeavouring to recover from the violent surprise which had proved nearly too much for his exhausted strength. La Louve had come to the succour of her lover at the very instant when, worn-out and despairing, he felt himself dying,--less from want of food than air, which it was impossible to obtain in so small an apartment, unprovided with a chimney or any other outlet, and hermetically closed, thanks to the fiendish contrivance of Calabash, who had stopped even the most trifling crevices in the door and window with pieces of old rag. Trembling with joy and apprehension, her eyes streaming with tears, La Louve, kneeling beside Martial, watched his slightest movements, and intently gazed on his features. The unfortunate youth seemed gradually to recover as his lungs inhaled a freer and more healthful atmosphere. After a few convulsive shudderings he raised his languid head, heaved a deep sigh, and, opening his eyes, looked eagerly around him. "Martial! 'Tis I!--your Louve! How are you now?" "Better!" replied he, in a feeble voice. "Thank God! Will you have a little water or some vinegar?" "No, no," replied Martial, speaking more naturally; "air, air! Oh, I want only air!" At the risk of gashing the backs of her hands, La Louve drove them through the four panes of a window she could not have opened without first removing a large and heavy table. "Now I breathe! I breathe freely! And my head seems quite relieved!" said Martial, entirely recovering his senses and voice. Then, as if recalling for the first time the service his mistress had rendered him, he exclaimed, with a burst of ineffable gratitude: "But for you, my brave Louve, I should soon have been dead!" "Oh, never mind thinking of that! But tell me, how do you find yourself now?" "Better--much better!" "You are hungry, I doubt not?" "No; I feel myself too weak for that. What I have suffered most cruelly from has been want of air. At last I felt suffocating, strangling, choking. Oh, it was dreadful!" "But now?" "I live again. I come forth from the very tomb itself; and that, too, thanks to you!" "And these cuts upon your poor bleeding hands! For God's sake, what have they done to you?"