She darted toward it, and in a few moments had made fast her rope, and dropped it within. She caught it in her hands, and then, carefully sliding into the chimney, began her frightful descent. In vain she tried to resist; the rope slipped through her fingers with such fearful rapidity that, by the time she had reached the hearth, her delicate hands were all streaming with blood. She scarcely felt the pain, she had but one absorbing thought—she was free!
Folding those poor, quivering hands, she whispered a thanksgiving to God, and rose, full of hope and joy. Not a sound was to be heard; and now, blessing the obscurity that shielded her from view, she opened the window, and darted down the pathway. The gate yielded to her touch, and, like a frightened doe, she fled through the woods, until the castle was out of sight, and she could venture to breathe.
CHAPTER VII.
THE FORESTER'S HUT.
Morning had not yet dawned; nevertheless there was light and life in a little hut that nestled in the woods near Strozzi Castle. The forester, in hunting costume, stood in the middle of the hearth; while his young wife, by the light of a flaming pine torch, prepared his breakfast.
The whole room was illumined by the torch, whose red rays flickered even over the face of the infant that lay sleeping in its cradle, and shone far down the forest glade, a kindly beacon to guide the footsteps of the fugitive of Strozzi Castle.
The forester rose from his breakfast, and slung his gun across his shoulder. "Now I must go, Marcella," said he, "or the stag will have left the brook before I get there. By sunrise it will be off."
"Go, then, Luigi, and may the holy Bernard protect you! I do hope you will bring down the stag, and please the marquis by your skill as a huntsman."
"Please him? He looks as if nothing on earth would ever please him again. He is the crossest-looking man you ever saw; so unlike his wife. They say the marchioness is crazy; but I do not believe it."
"Why, Luigi? Did you ever see her?"