Below, in the barren fields that surrounded the citadel, eight persons were waiting, silent, anxious, breathless.
They were Mme.

d'Escorval and Maurice, Marie-Anne, Abbe Midon, and the four retired army officers.
There was no moon; but the night was very clear, and they could see the tower quite plainly.
Soon after four o'clock sounded they saw a dark object glide slowly down the side of the tower--it was the baron.

After a little, another form followed very rapidly--it was Bavois.
Half of the perilous journey was accomplished.
From below, they could see the two figures moving about on the narrow platform.

The corporal and the baron were exerting all their strength to fix the crowbar securely in a crevice of the rock.
In a moment or two one of the figures stepped from the projecting rock and glided gently down the side of the precipice.
It could be none other than M.d'Escorval.

Transported with happiness, his wife sprang forward with open arms to receive him.
Wretched woman! A terrific cry rent the still night air.
M.d'Escorval was falling from a height of fifty feet; he was hurled down to the foot of the rocky precipice.