A cry of fear resounded on all sides. Before the engine had well come to a stop, twenty arms were outstretched to receive the unconscious man and to carry him to his wife, who, like all the rest, had never once stirred from the scene of the calamity. Every one pressed round the two, help was called for, the doctor summoned, and in the general confusion no one paid attention to Ulric, who had stood strangely quiet and passive, and suffered his burthen to be taken from him.
He did not spring out of the cage with his usual rapid movement; slowly, painfully he got out, catching twice at the chains to keep himself from falling. No sound escaped him, but his teeth were tightly set as in an extremity of pain, and the blood gushed forth more violently from his wound; under that thick layer of dust it could not be seen that his face rivalled that of the master in pallor. He advanced a few paces with an unsteady gait, then he stopped all at once; grasping convulsively with both hands at the pillars before the engine-house, he managed to support himself by them.
"Make your mind easy, my lady," consolingly said the doctor, who had been in attendance on the sufferers, and had at once hastened to the spot. "I do not find that Herr Berkow has sustained the slightest injury. He will recover."
Eugénie took no comfort from his words. She only saw that white face with its closed lids, that prone inanimate form. There had been a time when, as a bride, but a few hours after her wedding, she had been snatched from peril by the hand of a stranger, and, being in uncertainty as to her husband's fate, she had coolly and quietly turned to her deliverer and said, "Pray look to Herr Berkow!"
For such cold disdain as this she had more than atoned by the torture of the last few hours. They had taught her what it is to tremble for a loved, one without having power to help, without even being near and sharing the danger. Now she would have no one at his side but herself, now, like any other wife in her anguish and distress, she was on her knees beside her husband, calling piteously on his name,
"Arthur!"
At the sound of this passionate despairing cry a great quiver passed through the miner's frame as he still stood leaning against the pillars, and he drew himself up erect. He turned his mournful blue eyes once more on those two, but there was nothing of the old defiance and hatred in his look, nothing but a dumb profound sorrow. Then all grew cloudy before him, he raised his hand, not to his bleeding brow, but to his breast where no external hurt was to be seen, as though the greater pain were there, and at the very moment that Arthur, still supported by his wife's arms, re-opened his eyes, Ulric fell heavily to the ground behind them.
Though the last man had now been brought to the surface, an uneasy silence still reigned among the assembled crowd. There were no demonstrations of joy; the sight of the sufferers forbade all rejoicing, for as yet it could not be told whether life was really saved, or whether Death would not after all come in and claim the victims who had been snatched from him at the cost of so much toil and labour.
The master had recovered from his fainting fit more quickly than had been expected. He and his companion had really been overtaken by an afterfall of earth, rudely shaken and dislodged by the recent explosion, but, marvellous to say, Arthur had escaped unhurt. Supported by his wife's arm he could stand up already, though wan still and weak, and he was trying to collect his thoughts so as to answer Eugénie's questions.
"We were close to the opening of the shaft. Hartmann was on in advance and in perfect safety. Something must have shown him what was coming. I saw him suddenly rush back to me, he seized my arm, but it was too late; all was giving way around us. I only felt that he pulled me with him to the ground, felt that with his own body he shielded me from the avalanche which was coming down upon us, then I lost consciousness."