"Ay, ay!" said a hearty voice that belonged to none other than Pierre Carmontelle; and then the iron will that had sustained Van Zandt through those four dreadful days gave way, and he fell in a heavy swoon to the floor. Marie could only moan helplessly: "Hurry, hurry! he has fallen down. I fear he is dead!" With all the haste that several eager men could make, it was almost half an hour before a square opening appeared in the ceiling large enough to admit a man's body. Then a faint light streamed into the dark underground chamber, fairly dazzling Marie's weak eyes. Several eager pairs of eyes looked down, but they could detect nothing yet, so intense was the gloom below. "It is dark as Erebus," said a voice--Markham's, Marie thought. "Van Zandt, where are you?" Marie answered, with a sob: "He is down on the floor, but he is very still, and I fear he is dead from starvation." A lantern at the end of a rope came quickly down the aperture. A man's body followed it quickly--Carmontelle! He came up to the bedside and looked with amazement into the wan, sweet face of the girl. "_Mon Dieu_, it is Little Nobody! But what does it mean? I thought you dead. I saw you entombed!" But he had to wait for his answer, for Marie very provokingly fainted dead away, and he had to halloo to Markham above for water and wine. "I think fresh air would do better than either just now," was the reply. "_Peste_! what a hot, musty smell comes up that hole! Take her in your arms, Carmontelle, stand on a chair, and hand her up to me." As the ceiling was low, this plan was effected without much difficulty; and Markham took the slight figure in his arms and carried her out to the cool, green garden, where the last beams of sunset were glinting on the shining leaves of the orange-trees and the tinkling waters of the fountains. The cool air and the refreshing water soon brought her back to life and hope again. But Van Zandt was longer in recovering. He had kept up the longer, but his collapse, when it came, had been more complete. They found that the wound on his breast was still unhealed, and that there was a mysterious fresh wound upon his arm. The bandage had been knocked off in his fall, and the blood was pouring out in a crimson tide. They stanched the wound, and at last brought him around so that, with the aid of three men, he could be hoisted through the hole in the wall. He was too weak to answer questions at first, and it was not until the next day that they learned the particulars of his imprisonment by Mme. Lorraine. They were inclined to chaff him considerably over the madame's fatal _penchant_ for his handsome face, and he bore it with all the equanimity he could. Indeed, their mirth seemed pleasant, although directed against himself, after those four solemn days in that dark, underground prison.