“I do,” said Vivienne. “We will hope on, will we not, Vandemar? We have food and wine, your little friends will bring us corn and eggs, and the good God will send us rain that we may drink. I am with you, and you with me. We can love each other as well in this dark dungeon as we could if we sat beneath the trees, with the birds singing above us. That love will bless us, and if no one comes to save us, you will kiss me for the last time, tell me that you love me, and, clasped in each other’s arms, we will die together!”
CHAPTER XXIX.
A DOUBLE VENDETTA.
Pascal Batistelli and his adherents were unsuccessful in their search for Cromillian and his moral bandits. If they had not been looking for each other, they might have met, for while Pascal sought for Cromillian in the maquis, the bandit chief, with a picked body of men, Jack De Vinne being one of the company, was on his way to Batistelli Castle with the fixed determination of finding Vandemar, or of exacting stern retribution if the young man had been foully dealt with.
Pascal dismissed his followers, telling them that they must go home and take needed rest, for he should soon call upon them again. He maintained his usual composure before them, but, after their departure, in the solitude of his library, he felt utterly disheartened. Then his thoughts turned to Manassa, and he sent Adolphe to summon his old retainer.
“What is the matter?” cried Pascal, as the old man entered. “What has happened to you? Why is your arm bound up? There is blood upon your clothing.” He paused. “Has Vandemar escaped? Sit down, Manassa, and tell me who did this.”
The old man seated himself.
“Vandemar has not escaped,” he began. “He is safe in the dungeon—” he gave a low chuckle—“but he is not alone.”
“Not alone?” cried Pascal. “Who is with him? Come, quick, tell me all,” and, unthinkingly, he grasped Manassa’s wounded arm, making him wince with pain.
“It is a long story,” said Manassa, “and I don’t know just how to put it together. I thought that Vandemar might be hungry, having had nothing to eat for five days, so I took him a basket of food and a bottle of good wine.”
“You fool!” cried Pascal. Then he remembered. “What was there in that? You could not open the dungeon door.”