t had turned the huge
key an instant before it struck the stone casing, so that the rusty
bolt not having entered the hole, the door again rolled on its hinges.

The rabbi ventured to glance outside. By the aid of a sort of luminous
dusk he distinguished at first a semicircle of walls indented by
winding stairs; and opposite to him, at the top of five or six stone
steps, a sort of black portal, opening into an immense corridor, whose
first arches only were visible from below.

Stretching himself flat he crept to the threshold. Yes, it was really a
corridor, but endless in length. A wan light illumined it: lamps
suspended from the vaulted ceiling lightened at intervals the dull hue
of the atmosphere--the distance was veiled in shadow. Not a single door
appeared in the whole extent! Only on one side, the left, heavily
grated loopholes, sunk in the walls, admitted a light which must be
that of evening, for crimson bars at intervals rested on the flags of
the pavement. What a terrible silence! Yet, yonder, at the far end of
that passage there might be a doorway of escape! The Jew's vacillating
hope was tenacious, for it was _the last_.

Without hesitating, he ventured on the flags, keeping close under the
loopholes, trying to make himself part of the blackness of the long
walls. He advanced slowly, dragging himself along on his breast,
forcing back the cry of pain when some raw wound sent a keen pang
through his whole body.

Suddenly the sound of a sandaled foot approaching reached his ears. He
trembled violently, fear stifled him, his sight grew dim. Well, it was
over, no doubt. He pressed himself into a niche and, half lifeless with
terror, waited.

It was a familiar hurrying along. He passed swiftly by, holding in his
clenched hand an instrument of torture--a frightful figure--and
vanished. The suspense which the rabbi had endured seemed to have
suspended the functions of life, and he lay nearly an hour unable to
move. Fearing an increase of tortures if he were captured, he thought
of returning to his dungeon. But the old hope whispered in his soul
that divine _perhaps_, which comforts us in our sorest trials. A
miracle had happened. He could doubt no longer. He began to crawl
toward the chance of escape. Exhausted by suffering and hunger,
trembling with pain, he pressed onward. The sepulchral corridor seemed
to lengthen mysteriously, while he, still advancing, gazed into the
gloom where there _must_ be some avenue