The gossips had made the most of their time, as well as the two lovers, and had formed a close alliance, based upon mutual sympathy. Dame Perrine had confided to Dame Ruperta an infallible cure for chilblains, and Dame Ruperta, not to be outdone, had imparted to Dame Perrine the secret of preserving plums. After such an exchange of confidence, it is easy to understand that they were thenceforth united for life and death, and they had agreed to meet frequently, whatever the cost. "Well, Colombe," said Dame Perrine, as they drew nigh the bench, "do you still bear me a grudge? Tell me, wouldn't it have been a shame to refuse admission to him but for whom the house would have no master? Shouldn't we do our utmost to help cure this youth of a wound received for us? Look, Dame Ruperta, and see if he doesn't already look better, and if he hasn't more color than when he came." "Yes indeed," assented Ruperta, "he never had more color when he was in the best of health." "Consider, Colombe," continued Dame Perrine, "it would be downright murder to interrupt convalescence so happily begun. Come, the end justifies the means. You will allow me to admit him to-morrow at dusk, won't you? It will be a pleasant change for you as well, poor child, and a very innocent one, God knows, when Dame Ruperta and I are both here. Upon my word, Colombe, you need some sort of a change. And who is there to tell the provost that we have softened his stern orders a bit? And remember that, before he gave the order, you told Ascanio that he might come and show you his jewels; he forgot them to-day, so he must bring them to-morrow." Colombe looked at Ascanio; the color had fled from his cheeks, and he was awaiting her reply in an agony of suspense. In the eyes of a poor girl, kept a prisoner and tyrannized over, there was a world of flattery in this humility. There was then some one in the world whose happiness depended upon her, whom she could make glad or sad with a word! Every one exults in his own power. The insolent airs of Comte d'Orbec had humiliated Colombe very recently. The hapless prisoner--forgive her, pray!--could not resist the longing to see the joyful light shine in Ascanio's eyes, so she said, with a blush and a smile,-- "Dame Perrine, what is this you have persuaded me to do?" Ascanio tried to speak, but could only clasp his hands effusively; his knees trembled under him. "Thanks, fair lady!" said Ruperta, with a deep courtesy. "Come, Ascanio, you are still weak, and it is time to go in. Give me your arm, and let us go." The apprentice could hardly muster strength to say "Adieu" and "Thanks!" but he supplemented his words with a look in which his heart spoke volumes, and meekly followed the servant, his whole being overflowing with joy. Colombe fell back upon the bench, absorbed in thought, and conscious of a pleasurable excitement, for which she reproached herself, and which was entirely unfamiliar to her.