Jarnonville raised his eyes and gazed earnestly at the girl for some time. Never before had he examined her so closely. He was impressed by her beauty, for at that moment the flush which suffused her face, the pride and the grief that could be read upon her brow, gave to all her features an expression which made them even more charming than usual. The chevalier was surprised beyond measure; he had never noticed that Hugonnet's daughter was so beautiful, or that her person possessed so many charms; for the first time in many months a faint smile played about his lips, and he said at last: "If the daughters of bath keepers were contemptible, you alone would suffice to rehabilitate them. You mistook the meaning of my words. Far from my mind be the thought that there exists a class which may be outraged with impunity! But, in conformity with the passions of mankind, there are prejudices, customs, conventional proprieties; also pride and vanity, which, though they do not commit sin, too often prevent its being atoned for.--But I say again, I had no intention of insulting you, noble-hearted, devoted, generous girl! You, who embody so perfectly all the marvellous tales we are told of the friendships of ancient times!--Come, give me your hand, let me press it in mine, as gallant men do when they are reconciled; and then I shall be quite certain that you no longer bear me any ill will." The Sire de Jarnonville offered Ambroisine his hand. She seemed to hesitate, her face flushed vividly once more, but its expression was softer and more yielding. At last she made up her mind; slowly she put forth her plump white hand, and laid it, trembling, in the chevalier's. He pressed it as if it were the hand of a friend; but it is doubtful whether these two experienced at the contact the same sensations that two friends would have felt. After a few seconds Jarnonville released Ambroisine's hand, and they parted, the former with a less sombre expression than usual, the _belle baigneuse_ reflecting upon what she had done for Bathilde, and perhaps also upon the grasp she had just exchanged with the Black Chevalier; for women have a meaning in all that they do, whereas a man often yields unreflectingly to a sudden impulse. Six days had passed, and nothing had occurred to disturb the peaceful life that Bathilde was leading in her room at Master Hugonnet's. Ambroisine had not ventured to tell her of her visit to the old Marquis de Marvejols. But she was constantly preoccupied and anxious; at the least unexpected sound in the house, she ran to inquire if anyone had come. So that now it was Bathilde's turn to be surprised at her restlessness, and she insisted upon knowing its cause. But Ambroisine confined herself to replying: "Nothing is the matter! I assure you that nothing is the matter! But I was thinking--I am surprised that the Sire de Jarnonville has not been to our shop for several days, to ask me about you, as he has been accustomed to do for some time."