Louise knelt in the vault and prayed. Benoit, after a moment’s pause, reverently crossed himself and knelt by her.
‘Eh bien, ma’amselle!’ said he, when his devotions were finished, although still out of breath. ‘Here is the worst part of our journey over. Still——’
And Benoit paused and scratched his head violently.
‘Run into no further danger on my account, good friend,’ said Louise, guessing at once the cause of his embarrassment. ‘It is enough that I have escaped the fearful danger of those caverns. Leave me now; I will find some shelter and employment. A convent——’
‘The religieuses do not look upon young women exactly as godsends, unless their pockets happen to be better garnished than I take yours to be, ma colombe,’ said Benoit. ‘I would take you back to the boat-mill, and welcome, but that would be the first place to which they would come to find you. Now I have a friend—Lord forgive me for abusing the word!—an acquaintance hereabouts, where you would be safe enough from M. Lachaussée and his band; if they are not settled by the Bièvre long before this. Mais——’
And Benoit shrugged his shoulders in most eloquent bewilderment.
‘Who and what is your acquaintance?’ said Louise.
‘Why, he calls himself a professeur, ma’amselle,’ replied Benoit; ‘but what he is just now is not quite so easily told. I have known him already in the last half-dozen years as juggler, Bohemian, bravo, cattle-doctor, rope-dancer, archer—ay, and courtier too. But courage! It is but a trial.’
Louise paused, and Benoit proceeded towards the outlet of the vault or cellar in which they stood, looking back to his pale charge when he reached the stairs. The appeal of his honest open face was irresistible, and Louise followed him. They ascended and found themselves in a rude corridor. The filth and damp of years was thick and clammy on the walls; and the dim light that struggled through the narrow windows, scattered at random up and down, showed long passages that branched from the palier where they stood, lined with doors on either side. Benoit, after looking about him for a moment as if to recall his memory of the localities, struck down the one which faced them.
They paused at the third door. Benoit raised his hand to knock, when the sound of a woman’s voice within arrested it. Louise held her breath and listened earnestly. Benoit turned and looked at her, as she motioned with her hand that they should return towards the point from whence they had come. But her guide shook his head, and, with a sort of desperate grin, knocked loudly with the iron bar he still held in his hand. The sounds within ceased, and a heavy step approached the entrance. Benoit repeated his assault on the door.