Miretta was no sooner relieved from duty, than she wrapped herself in her cloak, left the hôtel, and wandered about Paris at random. But to no purpose did she search several different quarters, looking into every corner, stopping at the least noise; she met nobody but men, from whom she fled, and whom, by virtue of her agility, she always succeeded in eluding. At daybreak, completely exhausted, she returned to the Hôtel de Santoval, saying to herself: "I shall be more fortunate to-morrow, perhaps." The concierge and the servants thought that their mistress's maid went out of nights to meet her lover. But as they knew that Miretta stood high in the marchioness's affections, they contented themselves with making these reflections in an undertone. The next night, Miretta went out again, but had no better fortune. She did not lose courage, however, for, during the day, in the servants' quarters, she had heard of a recent night attack of which Giovanni was presumed to be the author, and she said to herself that she must surely fall in with him at last. The third night, Miretta, having turned her steps in the direction of the Arsenal, had just made an examination of Rue Saint-Paul, and was near Rue Saint-Antoine. Fatigued by the constant walking that she had done for three nights, she was beginning to despair of finding her lover; and glancing dejectedly about in all directions, she tried to interrogate the walls and the darkness, as if to ask them if they had seen Giovanni. Suddenly she thought that she heard outcries; she stopped, listened intently, and distinctly heard a cry of "thief!" The sound came from the direction of Rue des Nonaindières; the night was not dark, and at intervals the moon appeared and made it possible to see a considerable distance. Miretta, her heart throbbing violently, stopped at the corner of Rue Saint-Paul and Rue Saint-Antoine; it seemed to her that she heard someone running, and soon several shots rang out almost simultaneously. She felt her strength giving way, for she did not doubt that the shots were fired at Giovanni; she leaned against a house, in order not to fall; but the footsteps of the person running drew near, and in a moment a man flew past her. "It is he, it is Giovanni!" said Miretta to herself, for she had recognized her lover's peculiar costume; and she instantly started to run after him, calling, in a voice which she was careful not to make too loud: "Giovanni! Giovanni! Have no fear--it is I, Miretta, who follows you. Giovanni! in heaven's name, answer me! If you are pursued, tell me what you wish me to do.--Mon Dieu! I see something on the ground--it is blood that is dropping from you as you run! You are wounded! In the name of heaven, answer me!"