“Where art thou taking me, Michel le diable?” she said, beginning to struggle in his arms.  “Let me down; let me down, I tell thee! Maman has said I must never look at thee.  Thou shalt not carry me any farther.”

There was strength enough in the child and her vehement struggles to free herself to hinder Michel in his desperate haste.  He was obliged to stand still for a minute or two to pacify her, speaking in his quiet, patient voice, which she knew so well.

“Be tranquil, my little Phine,” he said.  “I am come to save thee.  As the Lord Jesus came to seek and to save those who are lost, so am I come to seek thee and carry thee back to thy mother.  It is dark here, my child, and the sea is rising quickly, quickly.  But thou shalt be safe.  Be tranquil, and let me make haste back to the Mont.”

“Did the Lord save thee in this manner?” asked Delphine, eagerly.

“Yes, He saved me like this,” answered Michel.  “He laid down His life for mine.  Now thou must let me save thee.”

“I will be good and wise,” said the child, putting her arms again about his neck, while he strode on, striving if possible to regain the few moments that had been lost.  But it was not possible.  He knew that before he had gone another kilometre, when through the mist there rose before him the dark, colossal form of the Mont, but too far away still for them both to reach it in safety.  Thirty minutes were essential for him to reach the gates with his burden, but in little more than twenty the sea would be dashing round the walls.  The tide was yet out of sight and the sands were dry, but it would rush in before many minutes, and the swiftest runner with no weight to carry could not outrun it.  Both could not be saved; could either of them?  He had foreseen this danger and provided for it.

“My little Phine,” he said, “thou wilt not be afraid if I place thee where thou wilt be quite safe from the sea?  See, here is my net!  I will put thee within it, and hang it on one of these strong stakes, and I will stand below thee.  Thou wilt be brave and good.  Let us be quick, very quick.  It will be like a swing for thee, and thou wilt not be afraid so long as I stand below thee.”

Even while he spoke he was busy fastening the corners of his net securely over the stake, hanging it above the reach of the last tide-mark.  Delphine watched him laughing.  It seemed only another pleasant adventure, like wandering with him upon the ramparts, or taking shelter in the turret.  The net held her comfortably, and by stooping down she could touch with her outstretched hand the head of Michel.  He stood below her, his arms fast locked about the stake, and his face uplifted to her in the faint light.

“Phine,” he said, “thou must not be afraid when the water lies below thee, even if I do not speak.  Thou art safe.”

“Art thou safe also, Michel?” she asked.

“Yes, I am quite safe also,” he answered; “but I shall be very quiet.  I shall not speak to thee.  Yes; the Lord Christ is caring for me, as I for thee.  He bound Himself to the cross as I bind myself here.  This is my cross, Delphine.  I understand it better now.  He loved us and gave Himself for us.  Tell them to-morrow what I say to thee.  I am as safe as thou art, tranquil and happy.”