The priest stood by the altar; in the choir a woman was waiting; the woman was Gervaise. Half-way up the choir he met the governor of the Châtelet. "You desired to make reparation, before your death, to the young woman whose honor you stole from her: your request was no more than just and it is granted." A cloud passed over the student's eyes; but he put his hand over Madame d'Etampes's letter, and his courage returned. "Oh, my poor Jacques!" cried Gervaise, throwing herself into the student's arms: "oh, who could have dreamed that this hour which I have so longed for would strike under such circumstances!" "What wouldst thou have, my dear Gervaise?" cried the student, receiving her upon his breast. "God knows those whom he should punish and those whom he should reward: we must submit to God's will." "Take this," he added beneath his breath, slipping Madame d'Etampes's letter into her hand; "for Benvenuto and for him alone!" "What's that?" exclaimed the governor, walking hastily toward them; "what's the matter!" "Nothing; I was telling Gervaise how I love her." "As she will not, in all probability, have time to ascertain the contrary, protestations are thrown away; go to the altar and make haste." Aubry and Gervaise went forward in silence to the waiting priest. When they were in front of him they fell upon their knees and the mass began. Jacques would have been very glad of an opportunity to exchange a few words with Gervaise, who, for her part, was burning up with the desire to express her gratitude to Aubry; but two guards stood beside them listening to every word and watching every movement. It was very fortunate that a momentary feeling of sympathy led the governor to allow them to exchange the embrace under cover of which the letter passed from Jacques's hands to Gervaise's. That opportunity lost, the close surveillance to which they were subjected would have rendered Jacques's devotion of no avail. The priest had received his instructions, doubtless, for he cut his discourse very short. It may be, too, that he thought it would be trouble thrown away to enjoin due regard to his duties as a husband and father upon a man who was to be hanged within two or three days. The discourse at an end, the benediction given, the mass said, Aubry and Gervaise thought they would be allowed to speak together privately for a moment, but not so. Despite the tears of Gervaise, who was literally dissolved in them, the guards forced them to part. They had time, however, to exchange a glance. Aubry's said, "Remember my commission." Gervaise's replied, "Never fear; it shall be done to-night, or to-morrow at latest." Then they were led away in opposite directions. Gervaise was politely escorted to the street door, and Jacques was politely taken back to his cell. As the door closed upon him, he heaved a deeper sigh than any of those he had perpetrated since he entered the prison: he was married.