his example, amidst the shouts of the enthusiastic multitude.

I was led to Madame Bertollon, my knees failed me, I sank down and
pressed her hand, which I bedewed with tears.

"Can you forgive me?" I faltered.

With a look full of excessive love and a heavenly smile, she looked
down on me. "Alamontade!" she sighed softly, but tears checked her
words.

The court broke up and the judges embraced me. In vain I endeavoured
to find Madame Bertollon; the crowd was too great. I was led down the
steps of the court-house, through the dense mass which headed me, with
marks of honour.

In the act of getting into my sedan, I was stopped by a well-dressed
young man saying, "Sir, you cannot possibly return with pleasant
feelings to a house which still contains the corpse of a suicide, and
which must remind you of the most horrible circumstances. Do me the
honour of allowing me to entertain you in the meanwhile in my own
house."

This invitation, urged with cordiality, was quite unexpected. Tears
still sparkled in the young man's eyes, and he entreated me so
earnestly that I could not refuse. He pressed my hand with joyful
gratitude, gave orders to the bearers and disappeared.

Followed by the acclamations of the multitude through the streets, I
proceeded but slowly, but at length arrived at the house of my unknown
friend. I only noticed that it was in the neighbourhood of Bertollon's
house and in the street where Clementine lived, which could not be an
unpleasant discovery to me, though I was still confused and overcome.

At the foot of the steps in the inner court, the sedan-chair was
opened. The friendly stranger awaited me; I saw myself in a large
splendid building, and was assisted up the marble stairs by two
servants.

All that is terrible and pleasing in human life was compressed for me
into the narrow space of this one day.

The folding-doors were opened, and some ladies advanced to receive me.
The eldest among them addressed me, saying, "I am much indebted to my
nephew for procuring me the honour of seeing the noble-minded deliverer
of innocence in my dwelling."

Who can describe my astonishment when I discovered this lady to be
Madame de Sonnes, and that Clementine was following her. I was about
to stammer something in reply to her kind reception, but was too much
exhausted. The loss of blood in the morning, after a night spent in
wakeful melancholy, and the various and extraordinary sensations to
w