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I
had
discovered
,
near
the
Punjab
lasso
,
in
a
groove
in
the
floor
,
a
black
-
headed
nail
of
which
I
knew
the
use
.
At
last
I
had
discovered
the
spring
!
I
felt
the
nail
.
.
.
I
lifted
a
radiant
face
to
M
.
de
Chagny
.
.
.
The
black
-
headed
nail
yielded
to
my
pressure
.
.
.
And
then
.
.
.
And
then
we
saw
not
a
door
opened
in
the
wall
,
but
a
cellar
-
flap
released
in
the
floor
.
Cool
air
came
up
to
us
from
the
black
hole
below
.
We
stooped
over
that
square
of
darkness
as
though
over
a
limpid
well
.
With
our
chins
in
the
cool
shade
,
we
drank
it
in
.
And
we
bent
lower
and
lower
over
the
trap
-
door
.
What
could
there
be
in
that
cellar
which
opened
before
us
?
Water
?
Water
to
drink
?
I
thrust
my
arm
into
the
darkness
and
came
upon
a
stone
and
another
stone
.
.
.
a
staircase
.
.
.
a
dark
staircase
leading
into
the
cellar
.
The
viscount
wanted
to
fling
himself
down
the
hole
;
but
I
,
fearing
a
new
trick
of
the
monster
’
s
,
stopped
him
,
turned
on
my
dark
lantern
and
went
down
first
.
The
staircase
was
a
winding
one
and
led
down
into
pitchy
darkness
.
But
oh
,
how
deliciously
cool
were
the
darkness
and
the
stairs
?
The
lake
could
not
be
far
away
.
We
soon
reached
the
bottom
.
Our
eyes
were
beginning
to
accustom
themselves
to
the
dark
,
to
distinguish
shapes
around
us
.
.
.
circular
shapes
.
.
.
on
which
I
turned
the
light
of
my
lantern
.
Barrels
!
We
were
in
Erik
’
s
cellar
:
it
was
here
that
he
must
keep
his
wine
and
perhaps
his
drinking
-
water
.
I
knew
that
Erik
was
a
great
lover
of
good
wine
.
Ah
,
there
was
plenty
to
drink
here
!
M
.
de
Chagny
patted
the
round
shapes
and
kept
on
saying
:
