“She has only fainted,” I told myself. “She is not dead; she cannot be dead; it is nothing; it will pass in a moment;” and gripping my teeth together in a very agony of effort I lifted her in my arms and set off up the hillside toward the ledge which Pasdeloup had pointed out. How I reached it I know not, for ere I covered half the distance the world was reeling red before me and the blood pounding like a hammer in my brain. But reach it I did, and pushing aside that curtain of vines, I saw behind it the dark entrance to the cavern, framed by the solid rock. I stooped and entered, then laid my burden gently on the hard, dry floor, and flung myself well-nigh senseless beside her.
But a moment or two sufficed to give me back my breath, and struggling to my feet I first assured myself that the leafy curtain had fallen naturally into place. Then I made a quick circuit of the cavern. I found it rudely circular, with a diameter of perhaps a rod and a height of half as much. Pasdeloup had doubtless occupied it more than once, for in one corner was a pile of dry moss, which had evidently served for a bed. To this I bore that still, limp body and fell to chafing wrist and temple, with a harrowing fear again gripping my heart. She was so pale, so haggard, her hands were so cold and nerveless, that I was almost ready to believe that the horrors and hardships of the night had slain her. There was no pulse, no respiration....
Despairingly I let the limp hand fall. My path lay clear before me—I would share the fate of my companions—I would die beside them!
I bent and kissed her lips, softly, reverently. And in that instant a gentle sigh came from them, her eyes opened and she lay looking up at me.
“Then you are not dead!” I cried. “You are not dead!” And I caught up her hands again and chafed them madly, feeling with joy indescribable the warmth of life returning to them.
She lay still a moment longer, then gently drew her hands away and raised herself to a sitting posture.
“Where are we?” she questioned, staring about her in the green half-light which filtered through the leafy curtain.
“We are in a cavern which Pasdeloup knew of,” I explained. “We are safe.”
“I thought we were under the ocean,” she said, still staring about her. “Far down in the depths of the ocean—I have always fancied it must be like this. But where are the others?” she demanded suddenly.
“That I do not know,” I answered as cheerfully as I could. “No doubt they have escaped in another direction;” but in my heart I knew the absurdity of such a hope.