“Let us make sure, that one of them is there,” said Agricola; “then, by placing this pole against the wall, I will climb up to the first story, which is not so very high.”

“Right, my boy!—­once there, tap at the window, and call Rose or Blanche.  When she answers, come down.  We will rest the pole against the window, and the poor child will slide along it.  They are bold and active.  Quick, quick! to work!”

“And then we will deliver Mdlle. de Cardoville.”

Whilst Agricola placed his pole against the wall, and prepares to mount, Dagobert tapped at the panes of the last window on the ground floor, and said aloud:  “It is I—­Dagobert.”

Rose Simon indeed occupied the chamber.  The unhappy child, in despair at being separated from her sister, was a prey to a burning fever, and, unable to sleep, watered her pillow with her tears.  At the sound of the tapping on the glass, she started up affrighted, then, hearing the voice of the soldier—­that voice so familiar and so dear—­she sat up in bed, pressed her hands across her forehead, to assure herself that she was not the plaything of a dream, and, wrapped in her long night-dress, ran to the window with a cry of joy.  But suddenly—­and before she could open the casement—­two reports of fire-arms were heard, accompanied by loud cries of “Help! thieves!”

The orphan stood petrified with terror, her eyes mechanically fixed upon the window, through which she saw confusedly, by the light of the moon, several men engaged in a mortal struggle, whilst the furious barking of Spoil-sport was heard above all the incessant cries of “Help!  Help!  Thieves!  Murder!”