“Half-past eleven,” said Corentin.
“I escaped at nightfall,” said Lydie. “I have been walking for five hours.”
“Well, come along; you can rest now; you will find your good Katt.”
“Oh, monsieur, there is no rest for me! I only want to rest in the grave, and I will go and wait for death in a convent if I am worthy to be admitted——”
“Poor little girl!—But you struggled?”
“Oh yes! Oh! if you could only imagine the abject creatures they placed me with——!”
“They sent you to sleep, no doubt?”
“Ah! that is it” cried poor Lydie. “A little more strength and I should be at home. I feel that I am dropping, and my brain is not quite clear.—Just now I fancied I was in a garden——”
Corentin took Lydie in his arms, and she lost consciousness; he carried her upstairs.
“Katt!” he called.