But Ninon--would she bear transplanting into other soil? I doubted it, yet it seemed to me that death itself were preferable a thousand times to such a life as this. At least, God willing, I would make the trial. So the hours dragged on. Sometimes I dozed; more often I sat plunged in gloomy thought, trying in vain to work out the problem of escape. At last the door opened again, and Ninon brought me another plate of meat and a can of water. “I know where there is a file, M. Pierre,” she whispered, as she set them down. “I will try to get it when Mère Fouchon goes out again.” I pressed her hand for answer, and was glad that I had said nothing, for at that moment the woman herself appeared at the door with her lantern. She motioned the girl to leave, and herself sat down on the dirt-heap opposite me. I looked at her with astonishment, for her eyes were gleaming and her withered face was distorted with a malignant joy. “Well, Monsieur,” she said after a moment, “it seems that I must take leave of you sooner than I had thought.” “And why?” I asked, with a sinking heart. “My business is finished,” she answered. “Ribaut was more reasonable than I had hoped. I regret that I did not ask for twenty thousand crowns instead of ten. Ah, there was a pretty scene! You should have seen him--you who love him no more than I. It warmed my heart. He raved; he swore. He foamed at the mouth, his face grew purple, just as though he were about to have a fit. But he calmed down when he found me inexorable. The girl was cheap at the price, and he knew it. So we soon came to terms.” “He has paid you the money, then?” “He will do so in the morning.” “And you have given him back his niece?” She laughed harshly. “What do you take me for, Monsieur?” she asked. “A fool? No, no. M. Ribaut will get his niece ten minutes after he has given me the money!” I could find nothing to say, but sat looking at her in dazed bewilderment and despair. “It is all arranged,” she continued. “At six o’clock I am to receive ten thousand crowns, in return for which I turn over to him this pretty Nanette. Then I say good-by to Paris and to Mère Fouchon. Ah, do not fear; I shall not forget you, Monsieur. I have the dose here,” and she drew a little vial from the bosom of her dress. “When the door has closed for the last time, Monsieur, I should advise you to drink it at once. It is the easiest way, much pleasanter than starving.” Still I said nothing. “Ah, I forgot one thing,” she added, pausing as she turned to go. “At nine o’clock to-morrow morning at the church of St. Landry there will be a ceremony, Monsieur--such a charming ceremony. Can you not guess what? Well, I will tell you. At this ceremony, that pretty little Nanette, whom you love so much, will be transformed into Mme. Jean Briquet.” I dashed at her with an oath, but the chain jerked me back against the wall. She stood for a moment and laughed at me.