Dionysia shuddered. She cried,--

"What will become of us?"

This time M. de Boiscoran heard her, and was ashamed of his weakness.
But, before he could master his feelings, the young girl went on,
saying,--

"But never mind. These are idle thoughts. Truth soars invincible,
unchangeable, high above all the ablest calculations and the most
skilful combinations. Jacques, you must tell the truth, the whole truth,
without subterfuge or concealment."

"I can do so no longer," murmured he.

"Is it such a terrible secret?"

"It is improbable."

Dionysia looked at him almost with fear. She did not recognize his old
face, nor his eye, nor the tone of his voice. She drew nearer to him,
and taking his hand between her own small white hands, she said,--

"But you can tell it to me, your friend, your"--

He trembled, and, drawing back, he said,--

"To you less than anybody else."

And, feeling how mortifying such an answer must be, he added,--

"Your mind is too pure for such wretched intrigues. I do not want your
wedding-dress to be stained by a speck of that mud into which they have
thrown me."

Was she deceived? No; but she had the courage to seem to be deceived.
She went on quietly,--

"Very well, then. But the truth will have to be told sooner or later."

"Yes, to M. Magloire."

"Well, then, Jacques, write down at once what you mean to tell him. Here
are pen and ink: I will carry it to him faithfully."

"There are things, Dionysia, which cannot be written."

She felt she was beaten; she understood that nothing would ever bend
that iron will, and yet she said once more,--

"But if I were to beseech you, Jacques, by our past and our future, by
that great and eternal love which you have sworn?"

"Do you really wish to make my prison hours a thousand times harder than
they are? Do you want to deprive me of my last remnant of strength and
of courage? Have you really no confidence in me any longer? Could you
not believe me a few days more?"

He paused. Somebody knocked at the door; and almost at the same time
Blangin the jailer called out through the wicket,--

"Time is passing. I want to be down stairs when they relieve guard. I am
running a great risk. I am a father of a family."

"Go home now, Dionysia," said Jacques eagerly, "go home. I cannot think
of your being seen here."

Dionysia had paid dear enough to know that she was quite safe; still she
did not object. She offered her brow to Jacques, who