rope, and fell, a distance of twelve or fifteen feet.

The danger he had escaped was too great for the fugitive to mind some
slight bruises caused by his fall, so he jumped up, and taking his
bearings, made straight for the little door which stood between him and
freedom. When he reached it he felt in his pocket for the key, and a
cold sweat broke out on his face as he found it was not there. Had he
forgotten it in his room, or had he lost it in his descent?

Collecting his thoughts as well as he could, he soon came to the
conclusion that it must have fallen out of his pocket as he climbed down
the rope. So he made his way a second time cautiously across the court,
trying to discover the exact spot where it might be, by the aid of the
wall of a cistern, which he had caught hold of to raise himself from the
ground. But the lost key was so small and so insignificant, that there
was little chance that he would ever see it. However, it was his last
resource, and Caesar was searching for it with all his might, when
suddenly a door opened and the night patrol came out, preceded by two
torches. At first Caesar gave himself up for lost, then, remembering the
water-butt that was behind him, he at once plunged into it up to his
neck, watching with intense anxiety the movements of the soldiers who
were advancing towards his hiding place. They passed him within a few
feet, crossed the court, and vanished through the door opposite; but,
though all this had taken such a very short time, the light of the
torches had enabled Caesar to distinguish the key lying on the ground,
and hardly had the gate closed on the soldiers when he was once more
master of his liberty.

Half-way between the castle and the village the Count of Benevento and
Michelotto awaited him with a led horse. Caesar flung himself on its back
and all three set out for Navarre, where, after three days' hard riding,
they found an asylum with the king, Jean d'Albret, brother of Caesar's
wife.

FOOTNOTE:

[27] What follows is translated from Dumas.

_THE KIDNAPPING OF THE PRINCES_

(_The following story is adapted from Carlyle's Essay, 'The
Prinzenraub'_)

ABOUT the year 1455, one of the Electors of Saxony, Friedrich der
Sanftmuetige (Frederick the Mild), quarrelled with a certain knight named
Konrad von Kaufungen. Friedrich had hired Konrad, or Kunz as he was
called, to fight for him in a war against another Elector. In one of the
battles, Kunz was taken