Resembling innumerable fireflies tiny flames were gleaming along the entire front of the cliff--torches borne by human hands.

Breathless the three of us clung there staring down, each realizing the utter futility of our efforts at escape, yet none reckless enough to give the thought utterance.

The Puritan first found speech.
"The spawn of hell!" he growled savagely, shaking his great fist, remembering the indignities of the altar-house.

"Good Lord, deliver us from this iniquity; lead us through the waters dry-shod, even as Thou didst Thy people of old from the land of Egypt." "Come," I said, "we must seek whatever hiding-place is within, and trust God for it." The priest looked at me pleadingly, his eyes like stars.
"I would at such an hour you were of my faith, Monsieur." "I might do worse," I admitted, watching intently the lights on the cliff-path, "but it was not the teaching of my childhood.

There is one below whose prayers are as yours." "Madame de Noyan ?" I bowed my head in gesture of reverence.
"Yes, Monsieur, and whatever she loves is not far from my heart.