When Vivienne entered the dungeon chamber, her thoughts were of Vandemar, and of him alone. Was he alive or dead? The darkness was so intense that she could discern nothing. Where was he? She listened for some sound which might indicate in what part of the room he was. When the great door was closed behind her by Manassa, she had not heard. She stood irresolute, not knowing in which direction to proceed. Her eyes becoming accustomed to the darkness, she perceived a faint ray of light piercing the gloom.
“Vandemar,” she cried, “are you there, near the light?”
Although there was no response to her question, she made her way towards the beam of light, the only sign of hope in what she feared—and that fear made her hold her breath—was the chamber of death.
Suddenly, her foot struck against something. She reached down and placed her hand upon it. It was the body of a man—it must be that of Vandemar. She longed to give relief to her pent-up feelings—she could have screamed with delight at finding him—but no, that would do no good. If he were alive, he must have wine and food.
She placed her hand upon his heart; it was beating, though but faintly. She knelt—she could feel his breath upon her cheek—he was alive! With a loud cry of joy which she could not repress, she leaped to her feet. Wandering aimlessly for a while, she sought ineffectually for the basket of food. Again guided by the ray of light, she made her way back to where Vandemar lay. Following along by the wall, which she touched lightly with her hands, she came to the corner opposite the small window. Still keeping close to the wall, she reached the dungeon door. There she stopped to collect her thoughts; but, even then, it did not occur to her that the door was closed; and, if it had, her memory would not have told her that there was no way of opening it from the inside.
In her mind there was but one thought, one desire—to find the food and wine. Although Manassa had brought it only to tantalise the helpless prisoner, in her heart she almost forgave him, for it meant life—and with life would come safety—for Vandemar, her beloved.
Feeling that every moment was precious, she resumed her search and soon stumbled over the basket, which she had left not ten feet from the door. Keeping her eyes upon the ray of light, which was her guiding star, she pulled the basket across the stone floor until she once more came in contact with the almost lifeless form.
She remembered that she had read somewhere that but little food, at first, should be given to starving persons, but the wine—there was life in that! The bottle was tightly corked and she could not open it. She struck it against the stone wall and the neck fell to the floor. She dipped her fingers in the wine and wet Vandemar’s lips with it. There was bread in the basket. She moistened it with the wine and, raising his head from the floor, fed him as she would have a child.
Vivienne could not see his face, for the ray of light did not reach the dark corner beneath the window, but the bread and wine did their good work, and Vandemar, reviving, heard the soft tones of a woman’s voice—a voice which kept repeating:
“Vandemar, come back to me. Vandemar, you are saved. It is I, Vivienne.”