M. Folgat saw his indiscretion. He had been under the impression that Jacques had told his betrothed every thing; and her very manner of speaking had confirmed him in his conviction. “Ah, it is the Countess Claudieuse,” she went on,--“that lady whom all revere as if she were a saint. And I, who only the other day marvelled at her fervor in praying,--I who pitied her with all my heart,--I--Ah! I now see what they were hiding from me.” Distressed by the blunder which he had committed, the young advocate said,-- “I shall never forgive myself, madam, for having mentioned that name in your presence.” She smiled sadly. “Perhaps you have rendered me a great service, sir. But, I pray, go and see what the truth is about this report.” M. Folgat had not walked down half the street, when he became aware that something extraordinary must really have happened. The whole town was in uproar. People stood at their doors, talking. Groups here and there were engaged in lively discussions. Hastening his steps, he was just turning into National Street, when he was stopped by three or four gentlemen, whose acquaintance he had, in some way or other, been forced to make since he was at Sauveterre. “Well, sir?” said one of these amiable friends, “your client, it seems, is running about nicely.” “I do not understand,” replied M. Folgat in a tone of ice. “Why? Don’t you know your client has run off?” “Are you quite sure of that?” “Certainly. The wife of a workman whom I employ was the person through whom the escape became known. She had gone on the old ramparts to cut grass there for her goat; and, when she came to the prison wall, she saw a big hole had been made there. She gave at once the alarm; the guard came up; and they reported the matter immediately to the commonwealth attorney.” For M. Folgat the evidence was not satisfactory yet. He asked,-- “Well? And M. de Boiscoran?” “Cannot be found. Ah, I tell you, it is just as I say. I know it from a friend who heard it from a clerk at the mayor’s office. Blangin the jailer, they say, is seriously implicated.” “I hope soon to see you again,” said the young advocate, and left him abruptly. The gentleman seemed to be very grievously offended at such treatment; but the young advocate paid no attention to him, and rapidly crossed the New-Market Square. He was become apprehensive. He did not fear an evasion, but thought there might have occurred some fearful catastrophe. A hundred persons, at least, were assembled around the prison-doors, standing there with open mouths and eager eyes; and the sentinels had much trouble in keeping them back. M. Folgat made his way through the crowd, and went in.