Violette wiped her eyes and tried to keep back her tears; but this fresh blow had wounded her heart too deeply; she felt too unhappy, and was absolutely determined to extricate herself from that position. Throughout the day she cudgelled her brains trying to think whom she could apply to for good advice; she felt that she must have a friend, a protector to defend her, to assist her to justify herself. But in vain did the poor girl cast her eyes about; fatherless and motherless, she was also friendless since Georget believed her guilty. At last, an idea, a last hope presented itself to her mind; despite the haste with which Monsieur Malberg had left her, it had seemed to her that he had felt some interest in her; the questions he had asked, the extreme attention with which he had gazed upon her, everything led her to suppose that something spoke to him in her favor; moreover, all the good that she had heard of that strange man, and the benefactions which he had heaped upon Georget and his mother, finally confirmed her in her determination. She decided to go to Nogent, and to appeal to Georget's patron for aid and protection; and she flattered herself that he would not turn her away. Somewhat tranquillized by this hope, Violette went to sleep less unhappy, saying to herself: "To-morrow morning I will go to Nogent." XXXIII DISAPPOINTMENT.--CERTAINTY On the fifteenth day after his visit to Monsieur de Roncherolle, the Comte de Brevanne did not fail to return to the furnished apartment on Rue de Bretagne. As he was starting upstairs, Beauvinet stopped him, saying: "Whose room is monsieur going to?" "To Monsieur de Roncherolle's; I know that it is on the third floor!" "Yes, it was on the third floor, but as the tenant has left, it ain't worth while for monsieur to go up." "He has left?--He has gone out, you mean, don't you?" "No, monsieur, no; he has gone away, he has left our house." "Left your house! when, pray?" "About ten days ago." "And where does he live now? He must have left you his address?" "His address--yes, monsieur; he lives on Passage I-don't-know-where, first door to the right when you enter Paris by Barriere de l'Etoile." The count, who was in a very bad humor already, administered a hasty kick on the young man's posterior, and left the house in a rage, saying: