What now? Was there to be a repetition of his former experience? Was he again to be dashed down from this fresh hope into a fresh despair? He nerved himself for this new ordeal, and waited with a painfully throbbing heart. At the grating he stood, motionless, listening, with all his soul wrapped and absorbed in his single sense of hearing. There were an inner grating and an outer one, and between the two a sash with two panes of glass. He could hear the sentry as he paced up and down; he could also hear, far away, the long, shrill note of innumerable frogs; and the one seemed as monotonous, as unchangeable, and as interminable as the other.
But at length the pacing of the sentry ceased. Claude listened; the sentinel stopped; there was no longer any sound. Claude listened still. This was the supreme hour of his fate. On this moment depended all his future. What did this mean? Would the sentry begin his tramp?
He would; he did. In despair Claude fled from the grating, and fell back upon the straw. For a time he seemed unconscious of everything; but at length he was roused by a rattle at the door of his cell. In a moment he was on his feet, listening. It was the sound of a key as it slowly turned in the lock. Claude moved not, spoke not; he waited. If this was his deliverer, all well; if not, he was resolved to have a struggle for freedom. Then he stole cautiously to the door.
It opened. Claude thrust his hand through, and seized a human arm. A man's voice whispered back,—
"H-s-s-t! Suivez moi."
A thrill of rapture unutterable passed through every nerve and fibre of Claude. At once all the past was forgotten; forgotten, also, were all the dangers that still lay before him. It was enough that this hope had not been frustrated, that the sentinel had come to deliver him from the cell at the midnight hour. The cool breeze of night was wafted in through the open door, and fanned the fevered brow of the prisoner, bearing on its wings a soothing influence, a healing balm, and life, and hope. His presence of mind all came back: he was self-poised, vigilant, cool: all this in one instant. All his powers would be needed to carry him through the remainder of the night; and these all were summoned forth, and came at his bidding. And so Claude followed his guide.
The sentinel led the way, under the shadow of the wall, towards the Residency. At one end of this was the chapel. Towards this the sentinel guided Claude, and, on reaching it, opened the door. A hand seized his arm, a voice whispered in his ear,—
"Welcome, my son. Here is your bride."
And then a soft hand was placed in his. Claude knew whose hand it was. He flung his arms around the slender figure of Mimi, and pressed her to his heart.
"Come," said the priest.