Ascanio uttered an exclamation of wonder, followed by a cry of joy, to which a no less delighted cry made answer. The head belonged to Jacques Aubry. In an instant, thanks to the assistance rendered by Ascanio to the unexpected visitor who made his appearance in such extraordinary fashion, the two friends were in one another's arms. As will readily be conceived, the first questions and answers were somewhat incoherent; but at last, after exchanging a few disconnected exclamations, they succeeded in restoring some semblance of order to their thoughts, and in casting some light upon recent events. Ascanio to be sure had almost nothing to say, and everything to learn. Eventually Aubry told him the whole story: how he had returned to the Hôtel de Nesle simultaneously with Benvenuto; how they had learned almost at the same moment of the arrest of Ascanio and the abduction of Colombe; how Benvenuto had rushed off to his studio like a madman, shouting, "To the casting! to the casting!" and he, Aubry, to the Châtelet. Of what had taken place at the Hôtel de Nesle since that time the student could tell him nothing. But to the general narrative of the Iliad succeeded the private adventures of Ulysses. Aubry described to Ascanio his disappointment at his failure to get committed to prison; his visit to Gervaise, and her denunciation of him to the lieutenant criminal; his terrible examination, which had no other result than the paltry fine of twenty Paris sous, a result most insulting to the honor of Gervaise; and finally his encounter with Marmagne just as he was beginning to despair of procuring his own incarceration. From that point he related everything that had happened to him up to the moment when, utterly in the dark as to what cell he was about to enter, he had thrust his head through the last crust of earth, and discerned by the light of his lamp his friend Ascanio. Whereupon the friends once more embraced with great heartiness. "Now," said Jacques Aubry, "listen to me, Ascanio, for there is no time to lose." "But first of all," said Ascanio, "tell me of Colombe. Where is Colombe?" "Colombe? I can't tell you. With Madame d'Etampes, I think." "With Madame d'Etampes!" cried Ascanio,--"her rival!" "So what they say of the duchess's love for you is true, is it?" Ascanio blushed and stammered some unintelligible words. "Oh, you needn't blush for that!" cried Aubry. "Deuce take me! a duchess! and a duchess who's the king's mistress at that! I should never have any such luck. But let us come back to business." "Yes," said Ascanio, "let us come back to Colombe." "Bah! I'm not talking about Colombe. I'm talking about a letter." "What letter?" "A letter the Duchesse d'Etampes wrote you." "Who told you that I have a letter from the Duchesse d'Etampes in my possession?" "Benvenuto Cellini." "Why did he tell you that?"