“No, sir, no one. But whoever carried out the directions, nevertheless, knows the ways of the house.” As I saw that I would gain nothing by the examination of material things, I bade Baptiste good-night and gave myself up to my accustomed reveries. This affair could no longer be explained naturally. This ring contained the secret of my destiny. I was grieved to disobey my immortal nymph, and at the same time I was happy in thinking that she was keeping her promise of watching over me. I did not close my eyes that night. My poor head was sick as well as my heart. Ought I to disobey the arbitress of my destiny? Ought I to sacrifice my honor to her? I was too much involved with M. d’Aillane to retract my words. At times I entertained the thought of suicide so that I might escape from the torment of an existence which I no longer understood, and then I comforted myself with the idea that this terrible and delightful device—“Thy life belongs to me alone”—did not have the same meaning that I had at first supposed, and I resolved to pay no attention to it, persuading myself that the maiden would appear to me at the place of meeting, if she wished to prevent it. But why did she not now appear to me in person if she wished to put an end to my perplexities? I called upon her with the ardor of despair. “The trial is too long and too cruel,” said I, “it will cost me my life and my reason. If I must live for thee, if I belong to thee——.” A loud rapping at the street door made me tremble. It was not yet daylight. I was the only one in the house awake. I dressed myself hurriedly. A second knock was heard, then came a third, just as I rushed into the vestibule. I opened the door all in a tremble. I know not what connection there was in my mind between this nocturnal visit and the cause of my anguish; but whoever the visitor might be, I had a presentiment that all would now be satisfactorily arranged. And such proved to be the case, although I could not then understand the connection with subsequent events that were soon to extricate me from my position. The visitor was one of Madame d’Ionis’ servants who came post haste with a letter for my father or for myself, as it was addressed to both. While they were getting up in the house to answer the summons, I read the following: “Stop the law suit. I have this moment received and now transmit to you a serious piece of news which releases you from your engagements with M. d’Ionis. He is no more. You will receive the official tidings during the day.” I carried the letter to my father. “_À la bonne heure_!” said he. “This is a fortunate piece of business for our beautiful client, if this disagreeable dead man does not leave her too many debts; a fortunate thing, too, for the d’Aillanes. The court will lose the opportunity of rendering a fine judgment, and thou that of making a fine speech. Come—let us go to sleep again, since there is nothing better to do.”