To divert his thoughts from his grief, he joins all the parties conceived by the worst scapegraces in the city; not a duel, not a nocturnal affray, in which he does not take part. He drinks, drinks to excess, gambles, passes whole nights in debauchery, serves as second to all the young scatterbrains who sow discord in families. He has become the bugbear of the petits bourgeois, the terror of cabaretiers, tavern keepers, of all decent folk; in a word, he is just the opposite of all that he used to be.--But, for my part, I cannot help pitying him; it is his head which is at fault, not his heart; it is despair that has changed his nature. Nor do I believe that he is altogether lost! He still wears mourning for his daughter. In the midst of his debauchery, he has not chosen to lay aside his sombre garments; and when he seems most excited by gambling, wine, or passion, show him a child of about the age of his little Blanche when she died, and you will see a magical change take place in him instantly; his eyes will fill with tears, and that man, whose glance made you tremble a moment before, will become silent and as gentle as a child.' "That is what the gentleman told his friend. I listened, at first from curiosity, then with deep interest; and since then, whenever I see the Sire de Jarnonville, despite his harsh or brusque manner, he does not seem to me such a bad man as he used.--To-day, when I saw him interfere in that battle and take sides against us with his long sword, which he uses so skilfully, I said to myself: 'Those poor travellers are lost!' And, in fact, your Roland was already on the ground and the peasant's staff was beginning to give way, when I remembered what I had heard. A little boy was close by, in his mother's arms; I ran and seized him--and you saw how successful my idea was; for the Black Chevalier instantly ceased to fight, and himself looked to the safe departure of the travellers." Passedix had listened to Ambroisine, making from time to time one of those little grimaces which indicate that one places little credence in what one hears. When she had finished her narrative, he said, shaking his head: "Between ourselves, _belle baigneuse_, what you have told me seems most extraordinary, and in my opinion this story of the Sire de Jarnonville is a trifle chimerical!" "Why so, seigneur?" replied Ambroisine, leaving the bench. "It seems to me no more extraordinary than your story of the pork twisted round your sword hilt; and I should say that the event has proved that the gentleman's story was true." Passedix did not think it best to reply. He walked toward Jarnonville, who had risen and was standing in the doorway.