It was not until they had passed the bed that they saw mademoiselle. Both stopped and looked astonished. Montignac recognized her at once, and first frowned, as if annoyed; then looked elated, as if her presence suited his projects. But La Chatre did not immediately know her. He lost color, as if it were a spirit that he saw, and, indeed, mademoiselle, motionless and pale, looked not unlike some beautiful being of another world. "Who are you?" asked La Chatre, in a startled tone. "It is I--Mlle. de Varion." La Chatre promptly came to himself; but he looked somewhat confused, abashed, and irritated. "Mlle. de Varion, indeed!" he said. "And why comes Mlle. de Varion here?" And now Montignac spoke, fixing his eyes on La Chatre, and using a quiet but resolute tone: "She comes too late. La Tournoire will be taken without her aid." "Be silent, Montignac!" said La Chatre, assuming the authoritative for the sake of appearance. "It is true, mademoiselle; you are too late in fulfilling your part of the agreement." He spoke with some embarrassment, and I began to see why. Inasmuch as he had been at Clochonne but little more than one day, no more time had passed than would have been necessary for the arrangement of the ambush. Therefore it could not be honestly held that she had been tardy in fulfilling her mission; that is to say, when he told her that she was too late, he lied. Hence his embarrassment, for he was a gentleman. Now why did he put forth this false pretext of tardiness on her part? "Too late in fulfilling your part of the agreement," said the governor. "I came, monsieur," said mademoiselle, heedless of the lie and the apparent attempt to put her at fault, "to be released from my agreement." Montignac looked surprised, then displeased. La Chatre appeared relieved, but astonished. "Released, mademoiselle?" he exclaimed, assuming too late a kind of virtuous displeasure to cover his real satisfaction. "Released, monsieur!" said mademoiselle. "I shall no further help you take M. de la Tournoire. It was to tell you that, and for nothing else in the world, that I came to Clochonne this night!" She was close to the bed-curtains behind which I stood. I felt that her words were meant for my ears as well as for the governor's. "I shall not need your help, mademoiselle," replied the governor, with a side smile at Montignac. "Yet this is strange. You do not, then, wish your father's freedom?" "Not on the terms agreed on, monsieur! Not to have my father set free from prison, not even to save him from torture, not even from death. I take back my promise, and give you back your own. I gave you word of La Tournoire's hiding-place, and so far resigned my honor. I abandon my hateful task unfinished, and so far I get my honor back. And, now, do as you will!" I could have shouted for joy!