"Ambroisine told me that you were making sport of me when you swore that I should be your wife!"
"Why have you more confidence in another person's word than in my oaths, Bathilde?"
"Ah! I should be very happy if I could believe you!"
"You restore my hope, my life!"
"O mon Dieu! I think I hear my father coughing! adieu! fly!"
Bathilde hurriedly left the balcony, closed the window, took her lamp, and returned to her room, without giving a thought to the poor rosebush, which was the pretext of her nocturnal venture. We are ungrateful creatures; in our happiness, we forget all those to whom we owe it.
And Bathilde was so happy now! he still loved her, he had not for one instant ceased to think of her! His tender oaths intoxicated her heart with joy and love. The love that possessed her was so true, so pure, so sincere, that she no longer felt strong enough to contend against it.
Léodgard went his way no less happy than she; being perfectly certain now of her love, he had but one thought: to possess her person whose heart was already his; and with the young count it was a short interval between the desire and its gratification.
The next night, about half-past eleven, Léodgard was in front of Landry's house. He listened attentively; everything was quiet; not a light was to be seen, and the night was as dark as the preceding one.
But the young count was well acquainted with the position of the balcony, and he had measured its height from the ground beforehand. Taking from beneath his cloak a short silk ladder to which a strong iron hook was attached, he dexterously threw the hook over the balcony rail, satisfied himself that it was firm, then climbed the ladder with the agility of a squirrel, stepped onto the balcony, drew up the ladder, and softly opened the window. On the preceding night, Bathilde in her haste had closed the window without fastening it, so that everything favored Léodgard's audacious enterprise.