"Oh!" she cried, seized with an idea that terrified her. "I remember ... the other night ... a nightmare I had.... It seemed to me that some one entered my room and caught hold of my hand.... And I could not wake up.... It was he! It was he! He had put me to sleep, I was sure of it ... and he was looking at the ring.... And presently he will pull it off before his mother's eyes.... Ah, I understand everything: that working jeweller!... He will cut it from my hand to-morrow.... You see, you see.... I am lost!..." She hid her face in her hands and began to weep. But, amid the silence, the clock struck once ... and twice ... and yet once more. And Yvonne drew herself up with a jerk: "There he is!" she cried. "He is coming!... It is three o'clock!... Let us go!..." She grabbed at her cloak and ran to the door ... Velmont barred the way and, in a masterful tone: "You shall not go!" "My son.... I want to see him, to take him back...." "You don't even know where he is!" "I want to go." "You shall not go!... It would be madness...." He took her by the wrists. She tried to release herself; and Velmont had to employ a little force to overcome her resistance. In the end, he succeeded in getting her back to the sofa, then in laying her at full length and, at once, without heeding her lamentations, he took the canvas strips and fastened her wrists and ankles: "Yes," he said, "It would be madness! Who would have set you free? Who would have opened that door for you? An accomplice? What an argument against you and what a pretty use your husband would make of it with his mother!... And, besides, what's the good? To run away means accepting divorce ... and what might that not lead to?... You must stay here...." She sobbed: "I'm frightened.... I'm frightened ... this ring burns me.... Break it.... Take it away.... Don't let him find it!" "And if it is not found on your finger, who will have broken it? Again an accomplice.... No, you must face the music ... and face it boldly, for I answer for everything.... Believe me ... I answer for everything.... If I have to tackle the Comtesse d'Origny bodily and thus delay the interview.... If I had to come myself before noon ... it is the real wedding-ring that shall be taken from your finger--that I swear!--and your son shall be restored to you." Swayed and subdued, Yvonne instinctively held out her hands to the bonds. When he stood up, she was bound as she had been before. He looked round the room to make sure that no trace of his visit remained. Then he stooped over the countess again and whispered: "Think of your son and, whatever happens, fear nothing.... I am watching over you." She heard him open and shut the door of the boudoir and, a few minutes later, the hall-door.