"Dear love! I think that I have done well to send her away." On leaving the house Violette met Georget, who was coming to inquire for her father, and who proposed to accompany his sweetheart to his patron's house. But the girl begged him to let her go alone, and to go up to her father; she was afraid that Chicotin might make a mistake about giving him what he asked for. Georget complied with Violette's request, and instead of accompanying her, he went up to Monsieur de Roncherolle. When Violette arrived at Monsieur de Brevanne's, he was at home, but engaged with contractors, architects and men who were working upon some property of his in Paris; the girl waited until he was at liberty, for she was unwilling to return to her father without complying with his wishes and seeing the count. At last he was alone, and Violette was able to express to him all her gratitude for what she owed him, and to deliver her father's message. Monsieur de Brevanne listened attentively to what Roncherolle had instructed his daughter to say to him. He took Violette's hands in his, and said to her: "Yes, my dear love, I have forgiven your father, and he must know that I never speak except from the dictates of my heart." "I will repeat your very words to him, monsieur," said Violette, "and I hope that it will do him good; for I saw plainly enough to-day that he was suffering more, although he tried to hide it from me; but this morning, when he looked at his wound, the doctor did not seem at all satisfied." "I thought that his wound was a slight one?" "So it was, monsieur, but a constant fever has prevented it from healing." "If that is so, I will go with you, my child; I will take you back to your father, and see for myself how he is. Perhaps he should have another doctor." "Oh! you are so kind, monsieur, and I am so grateful to you! Would you be willing to see my father, and to tell him what you have just told me? I have an idea that that would cure him at once." The count at once led Violette away, saying: "Come, my child; let us first find out how he is." It was but a short distance from the count's house to Roncherolle's lodgings. Violette and Monsieur de Brevanne soon arrived. The concierge was not in her lodge, and Mirontaine received them, barking in most lugubrious fashion. "That is strange!" murmured Violette; "this dog knows me perfectly well, so why does she make that noise? why does she howl like that? Mon Dieu! they say that that announces some calamity!" And the girl ran rapidly up the stairs, while the count tried to reassure her. But when they reached the fifth floor, they saw Georget and Chicotin standing outside Roncherolle's door. Violette would have passed into the room, but Georget put his arms about her and detained her, and she saw that his eyes were filled with tears. "O my God! my father is dead!" cried the girl. Georget and his friend sadly hung their heads; thereupon Violette fell into Monsieur de Brevanne's arms, faltering: