Bertha fell on her knees and prayed. Courte-Joie collected a number of dry laths and returned to the cellar; Trigaud followed him.
At the end of ten minutes, which seemed to Bertha as many centuries, a loud noise of crashing stones was heard. A cry of anguish escaped her; she darted to the opening and there met Trigaud coming up, bearing on his shoulder the body of a man bent double, whose pale face was hanging down upon the giant's breast. Bertha recognized Michel.
"He is dead! Oh, my God! he is dead!" she cried, not daring to go up to him.
"No, no," said a voice from below, which Bertha recognized as that of Jean Oullier, "no, he is not dead."
At these words the girl sprang forward, took Michel from Trigaud's hands, laid him on the grass, and quite reassured by the beating of his heart, endeavored to bring back his senses by bathing his forehead with water from a pool.
[XIX.]
THE MOOR OF BOUAIMÉ.
While Bertha endeavored to bring Michel from his swoon (which was chiefly caused by suffocation) Jean Oullier reached the outer air, followed by Courte-Joie, whom Trigaud drew up by the same means he had used to lower him. A moment more and all three were safely outside.
"Ah ça! were you the only ones in there?" said Courte Joie to Jean Oullier.
"Yes."