Père Ambroise had been considering many things, and he was not unwilling to listen to so reasonable a desire. Indeed, he had been thinking with some pity of poor old Madame de St. Cyr. “It shall be done,” he said, “but not until M. de Baudri comes; I have no authority, but he cannot refuse this at my request.” Rosaline thanked him without emotion; the girl’s passionate grief and rebellion had spent itself in a night of agony; she had reached the dead level of despair. She still believed her lover to be a prisoner, for Babet had been too wise to hold out uncertain hopes, and Rosaline had made up her mind to sacrifice herself for her two loved ones, and the sacrifice she contemplated was worse to her than death. No victim was ever prepared to be laid on the altar with a greater vigil of misery. She would have died gladly, but this was far more terrible and more degrading. She was in a stupor of misery, but yet too wise to expect relief from Père Ambroise. His point of view and hers were sundered as widely as the poles. To him it was only an undesirable step toward her conversion, and a certain way of saving her life. It was early, and the placid father left the victim to her reflections and, proceeding to the pantry, foraged with some comfort. He was too intimately acquainted with Babet’s peculiarities to approach her at such a moment with a demand for breakfast, but he managed to comfort the inner man with the remains of a cold chicken pasty and a salad, and some more diligent search unearthed a small bottle of _eau-de-vie_, so that he emerged from his seclusion, at last, wiping his lips and with an air of satisfaction. After this, he mounted his spectacles and searched Madame de St. Cyr’s little library for heretical books, but the old gentlewoman had been too cautious to be so easily betrayed, and he found nothing of interest. Thus it happened that when M. de Baudri arrived at ten o’clock he found Père Ambroise in possession, and fell to cursing his luck, knowing well enough that the priest had both the will and the power to hamper his designs. He held the corpulent father in supreme contempt, but he dared not insult him at a time when the priests were supreme, nor could he drive Rosaline to extremities while she had such a respectable protector. M. de Baudri was a keen man, and he saw that a few concessions might gain an ally, while insolence would make an undesirable enemy. There was no hope of his marrying Rosaline if Père Ambroise chose to declare her a heretic and have her shut up in a convent. The priest held the winning card and knew it, and it took him only half an hour to arrange that the young girl should accompany him to see her grandmother, under the escort of M. de Baudri and his dragoons.