"Two of them have fallen in—the only two who ventured to follow me!" said she. "I stepped aside, thinking that they would stop when they lost sight of me, but I suppose the gleam on the water deceived them. Poor wretches!"
There was an interval of silence, during which we all softly recited the prayer for souls in extremis.
"What are they doing now?" asked one of our number.
"They are setting fire to the buildings. Do you not smell the smoke?" said the priest. "But we have little to fear, even in that case. A storm has been gathering all day and is about to burst. Do you not hear the thunder? 'The Lord shall fight for us, and we will hold our peace.'"
I had heard what sounded like thunder two or three times, but there were so many noises that I had taken little heed to it. Now, however, came a tremendous crash, and a faint gleam of lightning showed what I had before suspected—that we were near some place which opened to the air—perhaps to the old well in the court, which would account for our hearing so plainly.
The rush of rain which followed must have at once extinguished the fires, and no doubt drove our enemies into the buildings for shelter. For a time, we heard nothing but the tremendous thunder and the rain. Then I began to be sensible of another sound, unlike anything, unless it be the rushing of a stream swollen by a torrent.
"What is that?" asked some one.
"Hush!" said the priest, imperatively.
We all listened. The sounds grew louder.
"They have digged a pit, and fallen into the midst of it themselves!" said the priest exultingly. "'In the snare that they laid privily is their foot taken.' Our friends have arrived, and we are saved."