FOR an instant I was so shaken by that dead weight on my arm, by that white drawn face turned blindly up to mine, that my heart stopped in my bosom; for I recalled that other white face and that other limp form I had seen but a moment since. Then I shook the horror off. “She has only fainted,” I told myself. “She is not dead; she cannot be dead; it is nothing; it will pass in a moment;” and gripping my teeth together in a very agony of effort I lifted her in my arms and set off up the hillside toward the ledge which Pasdeloup had pointed out. How I reached it I know not, for ere I covered half the distance the world was reeling red before me and the blood pounding like a hammer in my brain. But reach it I did, and pushing aside that curtain of vines, I saw behind it the dark entrance to the cavern, framed by the solid rock. I stooped and entered, then laid my burden gently on the hard, dry floor, and flung myself well-nigh senseless beside her. But a moment or two sufficed to give me back my breath, and struggling to my feet I first assured myself that the leafy curtain had fallen naturally into place. Then I made a quick circuit of the cavern. I found it rudely circular, with a diameter of perhaps a rod and a height of half as much. Pasdeloup had doubtless occupied it more than once, for in one corner was a pile of dry moss, which had evidently served for a bed. To this I bore that still, limp body and fell to chafing wrist and temple, with a harrowing fear again gripping my heart. She was so pale, so haggard, her hands were so cold and nerveless, that I was almost ready to believe that the horrors and hardships of the night had slain her. There was no pulse, no respiration.... Despairingly I let the limp hand fall. My path lay clear before me--I would share the fate of my companions--I would die beside them! I bent and kissed her lips, softly, reverently. And in that instant a gentle sigh came from them, her eyes opened and she lay looking up at me. “Then you are not dead!” I cried. “You are not dead!” And I caught up her hands again and chafed them madly, feeling with joy indescribable the warmth of life returning to them. She lay still a moment longer, then gently drew her hands away and raised herself to a sitting posture. “Where are we?” she questioned, staring about her in the green half-light which filtered through the leafy curtain. “We are in a cavern which Pasdeloup knew of,” I explained. “We are safe.” “I thought we were under the ocean,” she said, still staring about her. “Far down in the depths of the ocean--I have always fancied it must be like this. But where are the others?” she demanded suddenly. “That I do not know,” I answered as cheerfully as I could. “No doubt they have escaped in another direction;” but in my heart I knew the absurdity of such a hope. “You left them, then?” she questioned, looking at me from under level brows. “M. le Comte commanded it,” I answered flushing. “Do you not remember?”