hite
as her collar, and trembled violently. Big tears ran over her eyes; and
at each word a violent sob rose in her throat.

"You know where Jacques went last night?" she asked again.

"Yes."

She turned her head a little aside, and went on, in a hardly audible
voice,--

"He went to see once more a person whose influence over him is,
probably, all powerful. It may be that she has upset him, stunned him.
Might she not have prevailed upon him to escape from the disgrace of
appearing in court, charged with such a crime?"

"No, madam, no!"

"This person has always been Jacques's evil genius. She loves him, I
am sure. She must have been incensed at the idea of his becoming my
husband. Perhaps, in order to induce him to flee, she has fled with
him."

"Ah! do not be afraid, madam: the Countess Claudieuse is incapable of
such devotion."

Dionysia threw herself back in utter amazement; and, raising her
wide-open eyes to the young advocate, she said with an air of
stupefaction,--

"The Countess Claudieuse?"

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 q