The baroness knew nothing of the secret which Marie-Anne had revealed at the Croix d’Arcy, when she proclaimed her desire to die by her father’s side; but Maurice was scarcely uneasy on that score, for his faith in his mother was so great that he felt sure she would forgive them both when she learnt the truth. Not unfrequently does it happen, that of all women, chaste and loving wives and mothers are precisely the most indulgent towards those whom the voice of passion has led astray. Comforted by this reflection, which reassured him as to the future of the girl he loved, Maurice now turned all his thoughts towards his father. The day was breaking, and he declared that he would disguise himself as best he could, and go to Montaignac at once. It was not without a feeling of anxiety that Madame d’Escorval heard him speak in this manner. She was trembling for her husband’s life, and now her son must hurry into danger. Perhaps before the day was over neither husband nor son would be left to her. And yet she did not forbid his going; for she felt that he was only fulfilling a sacred duty. She would have loved him less had she supposed him capable of cowardly hesitation, and would have dried her tears, if necessary to bid him “go.” Moreover, was not anything preferable to the agony of suspense which they had been enduring for hours? Maurice had reached the drawing-room door when the abbe called him back. “You must certainly go to Montaignac,” said he, “but it would be folly to disguise yourself. You would surely be recognized, and the saying: ‘He who conceals himself is guilty,’ would at once be applied to you. You must proceed openly, with head erect, and you must even exaggerate the assurance of innocence. Go straight to the Duke de Sairmeuse and the Marquis de Courtornieu. I will accompany you; we will go together in the carriage.” “Take this advice, Maurice,” said Madame d’Escorval, seeing that her son seemed undecided, “the abbe knows what is best much better than we do.” The cure had not waited for the assent which Maurice gave to his mother’s words, but had already gone to order the carriage to be got ready. On the other hand, Madame d’Escorval now left the room to write a few lines to a lady friend, whose husband had considerable influence in Montaignac; and Maurice and Marie-Anne were thus left alone. This was the first moment of freedom they had found since Marie-Anne’s confession. “My darling,” whispered Maurice, clasping the young girl to his heart, “I did not think it was possible to love more fondly than I loved you yesterday; but now---- And you--you wish for death when another precious life depends on yours.” “I was terrified,” faltered Marie-Anne. “I was terrified at the prospect of shame which I saw--which I still see before me; but now I am resigned. My frailty deserves punishment, and I must submit to the insults and disgrace awaiting me.”