"Oh! What do I care!"
"There is a vague suspicion in my mind. I imagined this morning I noticed a sign of embarrassment on the face of the wily old man. He told me he was to lock himself in the whole day. I suspect he has a plot with his apprentices to pilfer a portion of the metal. He also notified me the casting would not commence until night. I wish to see how it is done. I shall then come back, madam. Have you any other orders for me, my abbess?"
Meroflede remained plunged in revery, holding in her hand the key of Amael's prison. After a few seconds of silence, and without raising her eyes that remained fixed upon the floor, she said to the intendant:
"When you go out, tell Madeleine to bring me my cloak and a lighted lamp."
"Your cloak, madam? Do you expect to go out? Do you need it to go to Berthoald in his prison——?"
Meroflede interrupted the intendant by stamping her foot in a rage, and pointed him to the door with an imperious gesture, saying:
CHAPTER XI.
THE FLIGHT.
Bonaik, his apprentices, Rosen-Aër, and Septimine, confined since morning in the workshop, had impatiently waited for night. Everything was in readiness for the escape of Amael from the cavern when darkness should set in. The glare of the brasier in the forge and the furnace alone lighted the workshop.
"You are young and strong," said the old man to his apprentices; "for want of better weapons, the iron bars that have been removed from the window may serve you to defend us. Deposit them in a corner. Now pass the barrel out of the window, and fasten to one of the hoops this string, the other end of which is in Amael's hands. He is ready. He has just answered my signal."