I was sobbing wildly, out of sheer weakness.
“Hasten!” I whispered. “Oh, hasten, Ninon!”
She sprang to her feet with a little cry of triumph.
“It is done!” she cried. “The chain is through. Take hold here, Monsieur. Now pull. Pull with all your might. Ah!”
The chain was broken, I staggered towards the outer door like a drunken man.
“Free!” I muttered to myself. “Free!” and I reeled through the door into the outer room.
Ninon was beside me, her finger on her lips, her face white with fear.
“Hush,” she whispered. “I hear footsteps. She is returning. Perhaps there are others with her. In here, quick,” and before I could resist, even if in my great weakness I had thought of resistance, she pushed me into a little closet, just as Mère Fouchon unlocked the outer door and entered.
CHAPTER XIV
GREATER LOVE THAN MINE
I leaned against the wall of the little closet in which I was, and looked out through the half-opened door into the room. I saw that Mère Fouchon carried in her arms a leathern bag, which she placed upon the table with a sigh of relief at being rid of its weight.