That he could find
the opening he was sure, but he was almost equally sure that he could
never get through it alive and up to the surface on the other side. If
he were drowned too, Sabina would be left to die alone, or perhaps to
go mad with horror before she was found. He had heard of such things.
It was no wonder that he unconsciously struck faster as he worked, and
at first he felt himself stronger than before, as men do when they are
almost despairing. The sweat stood out on his forehead, and his hands
tingled, when he drew back the iron to clear away the chips. He worked
harder and harder.
The queer little tune did not ring in his head now, for he could think
of nothing but Sabina and of what was to become of her, even if he
succeeded in saving her life. It was almost impossible that such a
strange adventure should remain a secret, and, being once known, the
injury to the girl might be irreparable. He hated himself for having
brought her to the place. Yet, as he thought it over, he knew that he
would have done it again.
It had seemed perfectly safe. Any one could have seen that the water
had not risen in the well for many years. Day after day, for a long
time, he and Masin had worked in the vaults in perfect safety. The way
to the statues had been made so easy that only a timid old man like
Sassi could have found it impassable.
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