CHAPTER SEVEN
"I don't believe, Milady, that we are in safety in this place," said Bathilda. "I don't know whether my misfortunes have taught me to mistrust men, but I don't find much frankness in this one. Let's examine his dwelling while he is absent."
"Wouldn't it be better for us to flee?" said Adelaide. "There is the route; we have money; let's go to Frankfort. There without being obliged to depend on anybody, we will provide ourselves with clothes suitable to our sex, and we can then continue our projects."
But while Adelaide was speaking, Bathilda was searching and finally uttered a cry of surprise and fright.
"You say we have some money, Milady? We have none left."
"Heavens," cried the princess after looking frantically in her own clothes, "everything is gone. We have nothing more. Death and misery become our lot. The hermit is a thief, and he has robbed us during our sleep. What is going to become of us?"
The unfortunate women, in despair, fell in tears on their straw beds where they had passed the night.
"Let's take up what I suggested a few minutes ago," said Bathilda. "Let's inspect this hut and perhaps we will find all our riches."
Behind the spot where the hermit had slept they saw a little door which the bed hid completely. They pulled the bed away and opened the door. Still guided by the hope of finding what they had lost, they went down six steps which took them to a subterranean passage. When they saw the long dark tunnel, they decided to return to the hut, but the door had shut, and
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