sorceries capable of letting loose the tempest, and that he commands the elements.”

"God preserve us from having recourse to evil spirits!" exclaimed I; "but it is certain that our lord is master of the wishing-stone."

"At last," continued Stephen, "after four years' incessant struggles, Black China, Tchortcha, and the Corea were subjected to us, as well as a part of Manzi. This town of Hang-Tcheou is one of the few which still hold out, because we have no vessels, and it is consequently able to be revictualled and reinforced by sea, just as the enemy pleases. The last of the Golden Emperors is shut up in the city with his best and most faithful barons; but our lord is holding high court at Daïming, where he is served at table by kings, and distributes to his barons the immense riches which he has acquired."

At the moment when Stephen finished his account, a great tumult took place over our heads.

"Stephen," cried I, "stand against the wall near the air-hole; I will get on your shoulders, so as to see through the bars what is the cause of this tumult."

By standing upright on the artilleryman's shoulders and clinging to the bars, I could see the great court of the prison filled with armed men running hither and thither in alarm. Their leaders were getting them together as best they could, and they were issuing in hot haste from a gateway opposite me. Above the wall of the court, the flames and smoke of a conflagration close at hand were visible. All at once, enormous stones began to fly over

the court, and struck against the dungeon under which we were; at each discharge the wall trembled above our heads. Mixed with the stones came pots and casks filled with burning naphtha and Greek fire, which made as much noise as thunder whilst they burned. One of these casks came crashing with fearful force against our bars, where it burst. I let go my hold, and jumped precipitately to the ground. The sparks came crackling in at the opening, and a stream of fire inundated our vault.

"We are lost!" exclaimed Stephen. "Our soldiers have taken part of the wall, and have advanced the mangonels. They are aiming at this dungeon, and we shall be burnt alive where we are!"

We took refuge at the end of the vault on the steps of the staircase. Stephen lay down at full length, and stretched out his arms in the form of a cross, repeating without intermission, "In manus tuas, Domine, commendo animam meam."

When I saw that he was thus engaged in prayer, I fell upon my knees, I pronounced the Tekbir, I took a handful of damp earth from the floor of the dungeon, I placed it in the collar of my shirt, and I recited with all my might the verse,

"We belong to God, and we return to Him. My God, I commit my soul to Thee and my body to the earth!"

At the end of a few seconds, the fire went out of itself: immediately afterwards a stone struck so violently against the bars, that it broke the framework, and carried away a

U

portion of the wall. This was a great piece of good luck for us, for through this breach the air circulated freely, and prevented our being stifled by the smoke which filled the vault.

I hurried to the breach, which was big enough to allow a man to get through; I hoisted myself up to the opening, but withdrew directly. The court was full of armed Chinese. Several, struck by the stones, were lying dead on the ground, others were writhing in agony, having been burnt by the fire. At the moment when I drew back, the air resounded with a fearful crash; I heard great shouts arise, followed by shrill cries and a tremendous uproar. Stephen sprang to his feet, exclaiming,

"The tower has just toppled over; the assault is about to begin; the place is ours!"

"Hurrah for a captured town!" cried I; "a town taken by Djebe! Make room for the banner!"

I had not finished speaking when the door of the dungeon was violently opened. A Chinese judge, ghastly pale, and trembling all over, came down the staircase, surrounded by Tchortcha soldiers. Behind him marched five executioners dressed in red and carrying instruments of torture.

"Obey and tremble!" said the judge in a faltering voice. "By order of the great Golden Emperor, you, Mongolian barbarians, are to undergo torture and the agony of a slow death, as hirelings of the vile Djebe."

I advanced towards the judge with clenched fists. The soldiers crossed their halberds, and the judge hurried up the