“My God! My God!” she moaned, “hast Thou utterly forsaken me? What crime have I committed that calls for such a frightful expiation? If I am guiltless why should godless men triumph? And you, my uncle! Is it because you are dead that your help is so long delayed? Oh! you brave one, who all alone confronted those robbers in the forest! Why wait you so long? Have you been mistaken? Am I not the one for whom you dared so much? Oh, be quiet, foolish heart, lest I persuade myself I really am that one.”
She gradually regained her composure, smiled through her tears, and lost herself in fancies of another kind. At last, scared by her own thoughts, she resumed: “O thou Blessed Virgin, protect him! Keep him far away from here. Those against whom he would contend single-handed are too strong for him. Protect him.”
As she spoke the last words there was a slight noise at the door. “They are coming to let me out,” she said to herself; “the Bishop has gone.” She wiped away her tears and stepped forward. The door opened, but it was a man’s figure that she saw in the dim light, not the sister keeper.
“Is it you, Marie of Chafleur?” the stranger whispered, for he could see nothing in the prison.
“My God! what is it? Who are you?” said the terrified girl in a low voice.
“Be quiet,” whispered the stranger. “If you are Marie of Chafleur, take this bundle. It contains a page’s dress. Hasten! I will watch outside.”
The poor girl trembled like an aspen leaf, but she took the bundle. She stood for a few seconds as if dazed, but quickly made her decision and stepped back into the prison. It was some time before she could make the change of costume, for her trembling hands were not as deft as usual, but at last she went out into the passage in her disguise.
“Give me all your clothes,” whispered the stranger, “for if they are left here they will betray you.”
Marie fetched them to him, and after making a bundle of them exactly like the one he had brought, he took the trembling girl by the hand and led her to the church door. Then he listened. All was still. “Softly, softly,” he murmured as they left the church.
Who can picture Marie’s glad surprise as she looked by daylight into the face of her protector for whose safety she had just before invoked the Virgin? There was little time for sentiment, however, for scarcely had Jean closed the door when they heard voices and steps in the street. He drew Marie down quickly, and they knelt together as if engaged in their devotions, while he listened intently to every sound near the entrance; but the steps they had heard were those of passers-by. Jean whispered, “I believe we have succeeded. Let us thank the Holy Virgin and Saint Ursula.” With tremulous voices they murmured their gratitude, and then Jean said in a low tone: “Do you feel strong enough, noble lady, to go on alone?”