"Calm your fears, my poor darling! I shall tell my father all, for I should not like to have any secrets from him; but I am not at all alarmed; he is soft-hearted, is my father; although he shouts and storms, he has a kind heart; and, far from blaming me for taking you in, he will approve of it, he will say that I did quite right; and then he will go to see your parents and plead for you; for it is not possible that they do not regret having turned you away." "You do not know my mother, Ambroisine; she never recedes from her resolutions; and my father is so exacting with respect to honor! he had such perfect confidence in his daughter! Believe me, your father would take an absolutely useless step; but there is someone whom I would like much to see; someone whom I must inform of my condition, my present plight; for then he will be able--at least, I hope so--to allay the anger of my parents by telling them that he means to repair his wrongdoing--and to console me a little for all my suffering by telling me that he still loves me. That someone--you know who it is, do you not, Ambroisine? Well, you can easily find his home--the Hôtel de Marvejols is on Place Royale.--You are so kind, Ambroisine, that I know that you will go to see him, and tell him all that has happened, and give him a letter which I will write to him, begging him to put an end to our misery, and telling him also that--that there is another person to whom he owes aid and protection.--You will see Léodgard, will you not?--Ah! if he knew that I had been cursed by my mother, he would have come here ere this to comfort me." "I will do whatever you wish, my poor love!" Ambroisine replied, forcing back a sigh. "But, sleep a little, take a little rest; remember that you need it, and that you must be careful of your health." Bathilde made no reply, but closed her eyes. Fatigue brings sleep at last, as time always brings forgetfulness. Which proves that in us mortals the mind is always vanquished by the body. XXX GOOD FRIENDS On waking the next morning, Master Hugonnet remembered nothing of his debauch except his dispute with the little clerk, with whom he was now furiously angry. As he arranged his shop, he cried: "Can anyone imagine such a sly, impertinent knave! To propose to me to make pomade for him out of vile things, and to ask me if it would make hair grow!--He had a very cunning leer as he said that, the horrible dwarf!--Just imagine, my girl, a little man with a nose so turned up that you can see nothing but two holes in his face; and making sport of me for all that, because he had a few crowns in his pocket, won in gambling hells, no doubt. If I find him again, I'll give him another good thrashing! I don't propose to have the Basoche insult bath keepers!" Ambroisine let her father give vent to his bile. Then she approached him and smiled.