Indeed, Jacques had had to overcome very bitter opposition in his own mind before arriving at such a resolution. As he had told Gervaise, he had inherited his antipathy to the marriage tie from his father, and nothing less than his friendship for Ascanio, and the thought that it was he who had caused his ruin, together with the incentive afforded by the noblest examples of self-sacrificing devotion to be found in history,--nothing less than all of this was necessary to bring him to the pitch of abnegation at which he had now arrived. But, the reader may ask, where lies the connection between the marriage of Gervaise and Aubry, and the happiness of Ascanio and Colombe, and how did Aubry expect to save his friend by marrying his mistress? To such a question I can only answer that the reader lacks penetration; to which the reader may retort, to be sure, that it is not his business to have that quality. In that case, I beg him to take the trouble to read the end of this chapter, which he might have passed over had he been endowed with a more subtle intellect. When the priest had gone, Aubry, recognizing the impossibility of drawing back, seemed to become more tranquil. It is characteristic of resolutions, even the most momentous, to bring tranquillity in their wake: the mind which has wrestled with its perplexity is at rest; the heart which has fought against its sorrow is, as it were, benumbed. Jacques remained passive in his cell, until, having heard sounds in that occupied by Ascanio, which he supposed to be caused by the entrance of the jailer with his breakfast, he concluded that they would surely be left in peace for a few hours. He waited some little time after the noise had ceased, then crawled into his underground gallery, passed through it, and raised the mat with his head. Ascanio's cell was plunged in most intense darkness. Aubry called his friend's name in a low tone, but there was no reply. The cell was untenanted. Aubry's first feeling was one of joy. Ascanio was free, and if Ascanio was free there was no need for him to--But almost immediately he remembered what was said the night before about providing him with better quarters. It was plain that the suggestion of Madame d'Etampes had been heeded, and the sounds he heard were caused by his friend's being moved. Aubry's hope was as dazzling, therefore, but as evanescent, as a flash of lightning. He let the mat fall and crawled backward into his cell. Every source of consolation was taken from him, even the presence of the friend for whom he had sacrificed himself. He had no resource left but reflection. But he had already reflected so long, and his reflections had led to such a disastrous result, that he preferred to sleep. He threw himself upon his bed, and as he was very much in arrears in the matter of sleep, it was not long before he was entirely unconscious of his surroundings, notwithstanding the perturbed condition of his mind.