But for Dionysia to spend a night in the Sauveterre jail, in order to have an interview with her betrothed, who was accused of incendiarism and murder; to remain there all night, alone, absolutely at the mercy of the jailer, a hard, coarse, covetous man—
“That I will never permit,” exclaimed the old gentleman once more.
Dionysia remained calm, and let the storm pass. When her grandfather became silent, she said,—
“But if I must?”
M. de Chandore shrugged his shoulders. She repeated in a louder tone,—
“If I must, in order to decide Jacques to abandon this system that will ruin him, to induce him to speak before the investigation is completed?”
“That is not your business, my child,” said the old gentleman.
“Oh!”
“That is the business of his mother, the Marchioness of Boiscoran. Whatever Blangin agrees to venture for your sake, he will do as well for her sake. Let the marchioness go and spend the night at the jail. I agree to that. Let her see her son. That is her duty.”
“But surely she will never shake Jacques’s resolution.”