"I have told you all, father," Ambroisine continued; "I have even told you the name of Bathilde's seducer; but I implore you to keep the secret; for if Master Landry should discover it, he would fight with the count; and if either of them should be killed, the poor girl would be still more to be pitied." "Very good, I will hold my tongue! but this seducer must be punished! Let me undertake that duty." "No, father, no; you must not interfere in this business at all. I beg you not to. I propose to see Comte Léodgard. Bathilde believes that he still loves her, she is convinced that he will repair his wrongdoing, that he will restore her honor by marrying her." "He! Comte Léodgard! that scapegrace, marry Landry's daughter! the daughter of a bath keeper!--Do not hope for that! He will never marry Bathilde, never!" "Oh! father, if she should hear you, think of her despair!--Well, I shall take no rest until the count has undone the wrong he has done her; nothing will stop me, nothing deter me from attaining that end! You see, I am strong and determined, father; I resemble you--I am brave. Let me act, I beg you; let me see the count myself, and take whatever steps are necessary to make Bathilde happy once more!--I do not know whether it is simply my longing for success, but something tells me that I shall succeed." Hugonnet pressed Ambroisine's hand. "Do as you think best; you are a good girl, and I have confidence in you." "Oh! thanks, father! And now, won't you come with me and say a word of consolation to poor Bathilde, who will not stir from my room and dares not show herself to you?--Come, father, and see her, I beg you; if you do not, she will think that you are angry because I made her welcome; that will add to her grief, and she has quite enough now." Hugonnet allowed his daughter to take his hand and lead him to her room, where she softly opened the door. At sight of Ambroisine's father, Bathilde fell on her knees and hid her face in her hands. But when Hugonnet's eyes fell on the poor girl, whose sufferings had already made inroads on her beauty, he forgot her fault and remembered only her misfortune. He ran to her, lifted her up, and kissed her, saying: "I am not your judge, I am your friend, as I used to be your father's. Would you like me to go to see him, and entreat him to be kind to his daughter?" "Oh! you are too kind, monsieur. But I am afraid that you would do no good; perhaps, indeed, the anger of my parents would be redoubled if they should learn that you know of my wrongdoing." "But suppose that I should go to see Landry and pretend to know nothing about it?" "That would be better, father," said Ambroisine; "you can see how they receive you, and whether they mention their daughter."