"To-morrow morning at eight o'clock."
"Very well," said Bathilde.
"But perhaps there is still hope," said Boniface.
"What?" asked Bathilde.
"If even now he would denounce his accomplices."
The young girl began to laugh, but so strangely that Boniface shuddered from head to foot.
"Well," said Boniface, "who knows? I, if I was in his place, for example, should not fail to do so; I should say, 'It was not I, on my honor it was not I; it was such a one, and such another, and so on.'"
"Boniface, I must go out."
"You, Mademoiselle Bathilde!" cried Boniface, terrified. "You go out! why, it would kill you."
"I say I must go out."