"I promised Ambroisine not to go to the linen closet for a week; and I do not go there. I have business in this room, and I am obliged to come here! It isn't my fault that there are windows here from which I can look into the street." This reasoning was that of a lawyer rather than of an innocent maiden; wit, you see, comes to the most inexperienced simultaneously with love. Thus Bathilde knew that Léodgard was there, always there, with his eyes fixed on the balcony; and with every moment that passed, she put less faith in what her friend had said to her. "If he did not love me sincerely," she said to herself, "would he pass his days like this, trying to see me?" It is so pleasant to make excuses for those whom we love. But when the young count changed his plan of attack, when he ceased entirely to appear on Rue Dauphine, a new form of torture, a pang sharper than all the rest, tore the poor child's heart. A whole day passed, and Léodgard did not appear. At first she flattered herself with the thought that he had come just at the time when she was not peering from behind the curtain; for, with the best will in the world, one cannot pass every moment with one's face glued against a window. But on the following day there was no lover on the street, and so on the day following that. Bathilde's heart was heavy and oppressed; the tears longed to flow, but she forced them back; she was pale; she was consumed by fever and she could not eat. Landry noticed his daughter's depression and was disturbed by it; he asked her if she was in pain, if she felt sick. "Nothing is the matter with me, father, nothing!"--Such is the invariable reply of a maiden whose suffering has its source in her heart. But Ambroisine was determined not to leave her friend without consolation, and one morning she paid her a hurried visit. She was alarmed by her pallor, her prostration, and the grief-stricken expression of her face. When she saw Ambroisine, however, Bathilde strove to conceal the misery that was devouring her. "I came to find out if you have been brave, if you have kept the promises you made me?" said Ambroisine, as she embraced Bathilde, who submitted to her friend's caresses without responding to them. "Yes," she faltered, "I have done what you ordered." "Ordered!--As if I gave you any orders! don't you know that it is my affection which leads me to advise you, to keep watch over you?--But how pale you are! Are you so very unhappy?" "I? oh, no!" "You have not been on the balcony again?" "No; but I might as well go there now; for it is all over; he doesn't come any more; he has not passed the house, not once, for four days." "How do you know? So you have been looking out of the window, have you?" "Indeed! I was in father's room, and I could not help seeing. Besides, I wanted to be certain that he was not there.--It is all over; he has forgotten me!"