CHAPTER IX.
CAST DOWN, BUT NOT DESTROYED.
The moon had now risen, and shone full on our road, which was completely exposed; but happily we met with no hindrance.

The motion of the cart now made me very drowsy, and I fell into deep dreamless sleep.

When I woke, feeling stiff and chilled, I wondered where I was.

The cart had stopped, I was alone, the gray light of morning was forcing its way through the chinks of my little lodging-house, but the door was locked.
I thought my position a curious one, and wondered whether La Croissette was going to give me up after all, to my enemies, but could not readily distrust a fellow apparently so kind-hearted.

I lay still and listened to the sounds about me; the clucking of hens, gobbling of turkeys, stamping of horses, and lowing of calves, told me I was in a farm-yard.
Then I heard voices, including that of La Croissette, and presently a sharp cry and then a laugh.