Bathilde had on a loose white robe; she tied it in with a girdle, threw a cloak over her shoulders, and got ready. As she was advancing to the door Madame Denis entered.
"Oh, my dear child, what in Heaven's name are you going to do?"
"Madame," said Bathilde, "it is necessary that I should go out."
"Go out! you are mad?"
"No, madame," said Bathilde, "I am in perfect possession of my senses, but you would drive me mad by retaining me."
"But at least where are you going, my dear child?"
"Do you not know that he is condemned?"
"Oh! mon Dieu! mon Dieu! who told you that? I had asked every one to keep it from you."
"Yes, and to-morrow you would have told me that he was dead, and I should have answered, 'You have killed him, for I had a means of saving him, perhaps.'"
"You, you, my child! you have a means of saving him?"