Mignonne threw herself at his feet, imploring him to set her free. He contented himself with locking her in a room, where the shockingly ugly old hag brought her food. The evening passed, and no one came. Mignonne did not close her eyes during the night. At last, about eight in the morning, another man, whom she recognized as the one who had insulted her on the street, appeared before her and informed her that she must be his mistress. Mignonne repulsed him with horror, and he left her, saying: "Weep, shriek--it will do no good; you will be much wiser to make the best of it; we will dine together this evening, and I will pass the night with you." Mignonne, alone once more, had determined to die rather than yield to that man; having no weapon, she had resolved to jump out of the window when he returned to her room. Then she prayed--and it was at that moment that I arrived. It was time. * * * * * At last we were at my rooms once more. Frédérique was awaiting us; she embraced Mignonne, then insisted that I should tell her all. I had not the strength to speak. The intensely exciting scenes that I had passed through had inflamed my wound; I was in terrible pain, and I swooned. L A PRESENTATION It seems that I was ill a week; my wound threw me into a fever; then, I was delirious, and a scratch that should have amounted to nothing became a serious matter as a result of the events following my duel. But I became convalescent at last, I was restored to health and happiness; for Frédérique was there, beside my bed, watching for my first glance. Tears fell from her eyes when I held out my hand to her. "Saved!" she cried; "saved! Ah! Balloquet was right when he said that you were cured; but I dared not believe him!" I saw two other persons stealing softly toward the bed; they were Mignonne and Ballangier. I shook their hands; I tried to thank them; but Frédérique begged me not to speak yet. I could smile at them, and that was something. Madame Dauberny had learned from Balloquet how we had succeeded in rescuing Mignonne. He had not concealed from her that Monsieur Bouqueton was poor Annette's murderer. Frédérique had taken an oath never again to live under the same roof with that man. For my part, I did not believe that he would ever venture to reappear in society. Health returns quickly when the heart is at peace. A few days later, I was walking on the boulevards, leaning on Frédérique's arm. "My dear," she said, "Balloquet insists that the country air will complete your cure. To-morrow, if you feel strong enough to endure the journey, we will go to Fontenay and pass the rest of the season there." "To Fontenay?" I said, looking her in the face. "Why, aren't you afraid of meeting people there whose presence annoys you?" "Oh, no, no!" she said, fixing her lovely eyes on mine; "I am not afraid of anything now, for I am sure of your love."