"What does this mean?" murmured Bathilde, whom the reading of the letter had terrified beyond words. "It is his father, that old man, who does not know me, who writes me this!" Thereupon Ambroisine sat down beside her friend, took one of her hands in hers, and in her softest voice confessed to her the course she had adopted in conferring with Léodgard's father. Bathilde shuddered as she listened; and when her friend had finished, she said to her, weeping bitterly: "I cannot scold you for what you did, for you hoped to put an end to my trials! And yet, if you had consulted me, I should have dissuaded you from this plan; for the result can only be to increase my misery, if the marquis punishes his son. He will hate me all the more intensely; he will be furiously angry with me, for he will think that it was I who asked you to tell his father all.--Ah! as if his desertion were not enough! Must I endure his hatred in addition?--The old Seigneur de Marvejols will take care of my child, you say. But suppose that, in order to keep a closer watch on the child, to give it an education worthy of the blood that will flow in its veins, it should occur to him to take it into his own house! Then I should be compelled to part with it--never to see it again, perhaps!--Oh! the mere thought turns my heart to ice! I, part with my child, my treasure, my hope, the only living thing that still attaches me to life!--Never! never! far better to die!" "Who says that anyone thinks of separating you and your child?" cried Ambroisine, raising her head proudly. "Do you think that I would allow it? Oh! have no fear; if I did wrong to go to your seducer's father without consulting you, never fear, I will see to it that no misfortune comes to you on that account!--On the contrary, something tells me that you will not blame me long for having done so.--Courage, Bathilde, courage! the Marquis de Marvejols is a just and honorable man. Have confidence in him." The next day, at noon, the large hall in the Hôtel de Marvejols was arranged as if for a solemn ceremonial. Chairs were placed in rows on each side. At one end a large table, covered with a velvet cloth with gold fringe, stood before three handsome armchairs, each provided with a sumptuous silken footstool. On the table were papers and writing materials. Several valets in rich livery, among them old Hector, went in and out of the hall, making sure that everything was prepared in accordance with their master's orders. As the clock struck two, one of the doors opened, and three persons were ushered into the hall. They were Bathilde, Ambroisine, and Master Hugonnet. Bathilde, whose aspect was made even more interesting by her condition and her suffering expression, leaned on her friend's arm, trembling from head to foot, and seemed to lack courage to raise her eyes.