the flames, and the loud crackling of the dry
beams--all around him and above his head also.

The iron shutters over the windows were gradually becoming red-hot, and,
like transparent panes of glass, admitted the rays of the fiery sea
beyond them, spreading a horrible scarlet glare through the room which
coloured every object, every shadow, blood-red.

The imprisoned wretch kept running frantically up and down the room like
a wild beast caught in a trap, striking the walls with his fist and
hacking at the beams with his axe.

In vain, in vain, slash away as you will, neither on the right hand nor
on the left, neither from above nor from below, is there any way of
deliverance!

At last, in his despair, he began to sing the hymn:

"On Sion's Hill the Lord is God...!"

and collapsed upon his knees in the midst of the room.

And lo! the Lord answered the man who cried out to Him in his dire
extremity. The boards resounding beneath him suddenly gave him a bright
idea of deliverance. Above and around there was no place of safety, but
might there not be a refuge below--down in the cellar?

The entrance into the cellar was from the outside by an iron door; but
if the vault beneath the room where he was, the ceiling of which had
resounded so loudly beneath his footsteps, if this vault were broken
open, it would be possible to get down into it that way.

Ah! how nice and cool it would be down there. The atmosphere of the room
was now burning hot. Terror and exertion had bathed every limb of the
headsman with sweat; the glare of the iron windows was merging into a
dazzling white, and radiated a heat that burnt the eye that looked upon
it. There was no time to be lost.

Zudar hastily broke up the floor with his axe, it would not be difficult
for him to find the key-stone of the cellar beneath it.

Nevertheless, he had to be careful lest he should stave in the whole
vault, and thus open a way therein after himself for the fire. He must
cautiously pick out the mortar from the interstices with a knife, and
lift up the bricks one by one.

And, now and then, in the midst of his work, he would stop and listen.

And then he would hear on every side of him a hubbub of wild voices,
hissing, shrieking, savage dance-music, and bloodthirsty harangues.

Or was it, after all, but the many-voiced gabble of the flames above his
head?

And on he went--digging, digging, digging.

The first layer of bricks over the vault was fo