ed to reach the window, taking his crowbar with him.
His hand trembled as it grasped the grating, on the possibility of whose
removal every thing depended. Viewed from the floor of his prison, the
bars appeared of a formidable thickness, and he dreaded lest the time
that would elapse till the next visit of his jailer, should be
insufficient for him to overcome the obstacle. To his unspeakable
delight, however, his first effort caused the grating to shake and
rattle. The stone into which the extremities of the bars were riveted
was of no very hard description; the iron was corroded by the rust of
centuries, and Paco at once saw, that what he had looked forward to as a
task of severe difficulty, would be accomplished with the utmost ease.
He set to work with good courage, and after a couple of hours' toil, the
grating was removed, and the passage free.

Paco's first impulse was to spring through the opening into the bright
sunshine without; but a moment's reflection checked him. He remembered
that he was unarmed and unacquainted with the neighbourhood; and his
appearance outside the convent in broad daylight, might lead to his
instant recapture by some of those, whoever they were, who found an
interest or a gratification in keeping him prisoner. He resolved,
therefore, unwillingly enough it is true, to curb his impatience, and
defer his departure till nightfall. Of a visit from his jailers he felt
no apprehension, for they had never yet shown themselves to him more
than once a-day, and that, invariably, at an early hour of the morning.
Partly, however, to be prepared for instant flight, should he hear his
dungeon door open, and still more for the sake of inhaling the warm and
aromatic breeze, which blew over to him from the neighbouring woods and
fields, he seated himself upon the top of his casks, his head just on a
level with the window, and, cautiously making a small opening in the
matted vegetable screen that grew before it, gazed out upon the face of
nature with a feeling of enjoyment, only to be appreciated by those who,
like him, have passed five weeks in a cold, gloomy, subterranean
dungeon. The little he was able to distinguish of the locality was
highly satisfactory. Within thirty paces of the convent wall was the
commencement of a thick wood, wherein he doubted not that he should find
shelter and security if observed in his flight. He would greatly have
preferred waiting the approach of night in the forest, inst