Suddenly against the crimson background of the flames a tall figure came into view standing in the window next to the one where the children stood.
All heads were raised, all eyes were riveted upon the spot. A man up there, in the hall of the library,—a man in that furnace! His face looked black against the flames, but his hair was white. They recognized the Marquis de Lantenac.
He vanished, but only to appear again.
This appalling old man stood in the window, managing an enormous ladder. It was the escape-ladder, which had been lying along the library wall, and which he had dragged to the window. He seized one end of it, and with the masterly agility of an athlete he let it slip out of the window over the outer ledge down into the depths of the ravine. Radoub, standing below, wild with excitement, received the ladder in his outstretched arms, and clasping it to his breast, cried,—
"Long live the Republic!"
"Long live the King!" replied the Marquis.
"You may cry what you please," muttered Radoub, "and talk all the nonsense you like; you are a very angel of mercy."