After a few moments he found himself in the first room to which he was taken at the time of his coming to the prison; but instead of escorting him to the outer door, which he hoped for an instant that they would do, so prone to illusions does misfortune render one, his guide opened a door at one corner of the room and entered an inner corridor leading to a courtyard.
The prisoner's first thought on entering the courtyard, where he felt the fresh air and saw the starlit sky, was to fill his lungs, and lay in a stock of oxygen, not knowing when he might have another opportunity.
The next moment he noticed the ogive windows of a fourteenth century chapel on the other side of the yard, and began to suspect what was in the wind.
The truth-telling instinct of the historian compels us to state that at the thought his strength wellnigh failed him.
However, the memory of Ascanio and Colombe, and the grandeur of the self-sacrifice about to be consummated, sustained him in his distress. He walked with a firm step toward the chapel, and when he stood in the doorway everything was explained.
The priest stood by the altar; in the choir a woman was waiting; the woman was Gervaise.
Half-way up the choir he met the governor of the Châtelet.
"You desired to make reparation, before your death, to the young woman whose honor you stole from her: your request was no more than just and it is granted."
A cloud passed over the student's eyes; but he put his hand over Madame d'Etampes's letter, and his courage returned.
"Oh, my poor Jacques!" cried Gervaise, throwing herself into the student's arms: "oh, who could have dreamed that this hour which I have so longed for would strike under such circumstances!"