“I hope so, certainly,” said the Jesuit of the short robe, with unction; “but when, I am unable to say.  Moreover, I must tell you frankly, that every precaution is taken against such attempts as those of the other night; and the most vigorous watch will be maintained, to prevent your communicating with any one.  And all this in your own interest, that your poor head may not again be dangerously excited.”

“So, sir,” said Adrienne, almost terrified, “compared with what awaits me, the last few days have been days of liberty.”

“Your interest before everything,” answered the doctor, in a fervent tone.

Mdlle. de Cardoville, feeling the impotence of her indignation and despair, heaved a deep sigh, and hid her face in her hands.

At this moment, quick footsteps were heard in the passage, and one of the nurses entered, after having knocked at the door.

“Sir,” said she to the doctor, with a frightened air, “there are two gentlemen below, who wish to see you instantly, and the lady also.”

Adrienne raised her head hastily; her eyes were bathed in tears.

“What are the names of these persons?” said M. Baleinier, much astonished.

“One of them said to me,” answered the nurse:  “`Go and inform Dr. Baleinier that I am a magistrate, and that I come on a duty regarding Mdlle. de Cardoville.’”

“A magistrate!” exclaimed the Jesuit of the short robe, growing purple in the face, and unable to hide his surprise and uneasiness.

“Heaven be praised!” cried Adrienne, rising with vivacity, her countenance beaming through her tears with hope and joy; “my friends have been informed in time, and the hour of justice is arrived!”

“Ask these persons to walk up,” said Dr. Baleinier, after a moment’s reflection.  Then, with a still more agitated expression of countenance, he approached Adrienne with a harsh, and almost menacing air, which contrasted with the habitual placidity of his hypocritical smile, and said to her in a low voice:  “Take care, madame! do not rejoice too soon.”

“I no longer fear you,” answered Mdlle. de Cardoville, with a bright, flashing eye.  “M. de Montbron is no doubt returned to Paris, and has been informed in time.  He accompanies the magistrate, and comes to deliver me.  I pity you, sir—­both you and yours,” added Adrienne, with an accent of bitter irony.

“Madame,” cried M. Baleinier, no longer able to dissemble his growing alarm, “I repeat to you, take care!  Remember what I have told you.  Your accusations would necessarily involve the discovery of what took place the other night.  Beware! the fate of the soldier and his son is in your hands.  Recollect they are in danger of the convict’s chains.”

“Oh!  I am not your dupe, sir.  You are holding out a covert menace.  Have at least the courage to say to me, that, if I complain to the magistrates, you will denounce the soldier and his son.”