So saying, Bertha began to go round the building, dragging aside with frenzied motions the beams, stones, tiles, and other fragments which had fallen beside the outer wall and now hid its base.
Suddenly she gave a cry. Trigaud and Courte-Joie ran to her,--one on his great legs, the other on his stumps and hands, with the rapidity of a batrachian.
"Listen!" said Bertha, triumphantly.
Sure enough, on the spot where she stood they heard distinctly a dull but continued sound coming from the depths of the ruined building,--a sound like that of some tool or instrument striking steady and regular blows on the foundations.
"This is the place," said Bertha, pointing to an enormous pile of rubbish heaped against the wall. "We shall find them here."
Trigaud set to work. He began by pushing away a whole section of the roof which had slid down outside the building and now lay vertically against the wall. Then he threw aside the loose stones piled there by the fall of a window-casing on the first floor; and finally, after wonderful feats of strength, he laid bare an opening through which the sounds of the labor of the buried men came to them distinctly.
Bertha wanted to pass through the opening as soon as it was practicable; but Trigaud held her back. He took a fallen lath, lit it by the embers, fastened the girth, which usually held Courte-Joie to his shoulders, round the latter's waist, and lowered him into the cavity.
Bertha and Trigaud held their breaths. Courte-Joie's voice was heard, speaking to some one; then he gave a signal to be hoisted up. Trigaud obeyed with the alacrity of a well-fed animal.
"Living? are they living?" cried Bertha, in anguish.
"Yes, mademoiselle, but for God's sake don't attempt to go down there; they are not in the cellar, but in a sort of niche beyond it. The opening through which they got there is blocked. We must break through the wall to reach them; and I am very much afraid that may bring down the roof of the cellar upon them. Let me direct Trigaud."