Five crosses formed the mysterious signature of this letter, which Godefroid returned to the baron.

“The five crosses are there,” he said as if to himself.

“Ah! monsieur,” said the old man; “you do know all; you were sent to me by that mysterious lady—­tell me her name!”

“Her name!” exclaimed Godefroid; “her name!  Unhappy man! you must not ask it; never seek to find it out.  Ah! madame,” he cried, taking Madame de Mergi’s hand; “tell your father, if he values his peace of mind, to remain in his ignorance and make no effort to discover the truth.”

“No, tell it!” said Vanda.

“Well, then, she who saved your daughter,” said Godefroid, looking at the old man, “who returns her to you young and beautiful and fresh and happy, who rescued her from her coffin, she who saved your grandson from disgrace, and has given you an old age of peace and honor—­” He stopped short—­“is a woman whom you sent innocent to prison for twenty years; to whom, as a magistrate, you did the foulest wrong; whose sanctity you insulted; whose beautiful daughter you tore from her arms and condemned to the cruellest of all deaths, for she died on the guillotine.”

Godefroid, seeing that Vanda had fallen back half fainting on her chair, rushed into the corridor and from there into the street, running at full speed.

“If you want your pardon,” said Baron Bourlac to his grandson, “follow that man and find out where he lives.”

Auguste was off like an arrow.

The next morning at eight o’clock, Baron Bourlac knocked at the old yellow door in the rue Chanoinesse, and asked for Madame de la Chanterie.  The portress showed him the portico.  Happily it was the breakfast hour.  Godefroid saw the baron, through one of the casements on the stairs, crossing the court-yard; he had just time to get down into the salon where the friends were all assembled and to cry out:—­

“Baron Bourlac is here!”

Madame de la Chanterie, hearing the name, rose; supported by the Abbe de Veze she went to her room.

“You shall not come in, tool of Satan!” cried Manon, recognizing their former prosecutor and preventing his entrance through the door of the salon.  “Have you come to kill Madame?”

“Manon, let the gentleman come in,” said Monsieur Alain.

Manon sat down on a chair as if both her legs had given way at once.

“Monsieur,” said the baron in an agitated voice, recognizing Monsieur Joseph and Godefroid, and bowing to Monsieur Nicolas, “mercy gives rights to those it benefits.”

“You owe us nothing, monsieur;” said the good old Alain; “you owe everything to God.”