"How will I prove it! Oh! luckily enough, I have kept a letter written to Bathilde by the count when he had not succeeded in his projects. It is the first and, I believe, the only letter he ever wrote to her. The poor child gave it to me at the time, to be rid of the temptation to read it all day long. For the eloquent oaths of love which it contained were beginning even then to turn her head. Writing is something more than mere words." "Yes, you are right; and if you have that letter----" "I have always kept it carefully; something told me that it might be of use to Bathilde some day; she thinks, no doubt, that I burned it long ago." "In that case, carry out your plan. But I do not see in what way I can be of use to you in all this, and why you claim my assistance?" "To help me to gain access to the old Seigneur de Marvejols--that is why I appealed to you." "Do you know where the Hôtel de Marvejols is?" "Yes, chevalier; it is on Place Royale. I went there once, expecting to find Monsieur Léodgard there." "Well! go there now; ask for monsieur le marquis; say that it is a poor girl who desires to speak with him, to obtain justice, and you will speedily be admitted to the old nobleman's presence. To obtain access to the upright man who reckons duty superior to birth and fortune, one needs no influence; it is enough to be oppressed and to claim his support. Therefore, a sponsor would be of no use to you; on the contrary, it would offend the old marquis, by showing him that you confounded him with those powerful men who are insensible to the laments of the unfortunate." "Oh! thanks, Sire de Jarnonville, thanks! To-morrow I will go to the Hôtel de Marvejols." "Does your friend know of your plan?" "No, indeed! I should not think of mentioning it to her. In the first place, I am sure that she would forbid me to go to her seducer's father; she would be afraid of drawing upon herself that _honorable_ young man's wrath; but he was not ashamed, by presuming upon a poor girl's innocence, to look on while she was cursed and cast out by her parents!--Oh, no! Bathilde shall know nothing about it, seigneur chevalier! If I fail in my undertaking, at all events she will not have this fresh humiliation to add to her grief; if the old marquis listens to me kindly, then it will be time enough to give her heart a little hope." "Go, brave girl, and may you succeed in your noble purpose!" The next day, about noon, Léodgard's father was alone in his study. The old nobleman's countenance had seemed sterner than ever of late, because it had become more melancholy. The desertion of his son, who had entirely ceased to visit the old Hôtel de Marvejols, was the probable cause of the grief which the marquis concealed beneath a prouder and more gloomy expression. But upon that noble brow, furrowed by age, there was something else than sternness to be read.