Peter turned back from the upper door, since nothing further in the way of news was to be had from Boylan. The first face that he saw within was Fallows', and over it, as his own glance sped quickly, there passed a look as from some burden. It was the look of a man who had thought the fight won, and now perceived that it must be resumed again. Poltneck was just behind. Peter would like to have preserved in picture the singer's that the chance was life instead of death—the blend of animal and angel which is so thrillingly human, as it was expressed upon that . Abel was smiling, something of a child in the smile, a tremulousness around the lips; and Berthe came forward under the rain-blurred skylight—gladness, , a touch of the great tension lingering, but something else that he had not seen before in their prison hours. He went to her.  
“What does it mean?” she whispered.
 
“It means that the door is open, the gone. Big Belt is below and the town wild with some new trouble—”
 
“The Austrians must have broken through,” said Fallows.
 
“We are to stay until he gives us word,” Peter added.
 
Berthe was leading him back to the shadows.
 
“Peter, does it mean that?”
 
He saw the dark low-glowing jewel in her eyes—the earth-shine, all the sweetness of earth in it. So close to death, it had not been ignited before in the skylight prison, but it was there for him now, and he loved her bewilderingly.
 
“I think we may almost dare to hope,” he whispered.
 
“The still snowy woods—only a brave bird or two remaining—the short brilliant days and early nightfall—our talks that will never come to an end—”
 
Something of her frightened him—the danger of its .
 
“I think we may almost dare to hope,” he repeated.
 
“Peter, I think—I think you are braver than any—............