“Ah!” he said, “now I understand M. Galpin’s great trouble. He has, no doubt, heard of your visit, and imagined that you wanted to rob him of his prisoner.” He murmured some words, which Dionysia could not hear; and then, coming to some decision, apparently, he said,-- “Well, never mind! I’ll see what can be done. Write your letter, madam: here are pens and ink.” The young girl made no reply, but sat down at Mechinet’s table; but, at the moment when she was putting pen to paper she asked,-- “Has M. de Boiscoran any books in his prison?” “Yes, madam. At his request M. Galpin himself went and selected, in M. Daubigeon’s library, some books of travels and some of Cooper’s novels for him.” Dionysia uttered a cry of delight. “O Jacques!” she said, “how glad I am you counted upon me!” and, without noticing how utterly Mechinet seemed to be surprised, she wrote,-- “We are sure of your innocence, Jacques, and still we are in despair. Your mother is here, with a Paris lawyer, a M. Folgat, who is devoted to your interests. What must we do? Give us your instructions. You can reply without fear, as you have _our_ book. “DIONYSIA.” “Read this,” she said to the clerk, when she had finished. But he did not avail himself of the permission. He folded the paper, and slipped it into an envelope, which he sealed. “Oh, you are very kind!” said the young girl, touched by his delicacy. “Not at all, madam. I only try to do a dishonest thing in the most honest way. To-morrow, madam, you shall have your answer.” “I will call for it.” Mechinet trembled. “Take care not to do so,” he said. “The good people of Sauveterre are too cunning not to know that just now you are not thinking much of dress; and your calls here would look suspicious. Leave it to me to see to it that you get M. de Boiscoran’s answer.” While Dionysia was writing, the clerk had made a parcel of the bonds which she had brought. He handed it to her, and said,-- “Take it, madam. If I want money for Blangin, or for Trumence, I will ask you for it. And now you must go: you need not go in to my sisters. I will explain your visit to them.” VIII. “What can have happened to Dionysia, that she does not come back?” murmured Grandpapa Chandore, as he walked up and down the Square, and looked, for the twentieth time, at his watch. For some time the fear of displeasing his grandchild, and of receiving a scolding, kept him at the place where she had told him to wait for her; but at last it was too much for him, and he said,-- “Upon my word, this is too much! I’ll risk it.” And, crossing the road which separates the Square from the houses, he entered the long, narrow passage in the house of the sisters Mechinet. He was just putting his foot on the first step of the stairs, when he saw a light above. He distinguished the voice of his granddaughter, and then her light step. “At last!” he thought.