"Mon Dieu! what has happened to you, Miretta? I read some terrible disaster on your features! You have seen Giovanni—he is arrested—wounded, perhaps?—Pray answer; one would say that you were afraid to speak."
"In truth, madame, what I have to tell you is so horrible—— But you must know it, none the less—you must know, as he really is, the monster to whom you have given your love."
"What! what do you mean? My love!—I do not understand you, Miretta; I am talking of your Giovanni.—what has Léodgard in common with your love affairs?"
"You shall know, madame. Last night, I went out in the hope of at last meeting him whom I have sought in vain for more than three years!—Despite all that I had heard within a few days of new robberies committed by Giovanni, my heart, still depressed, did not throb with that soothing hope which one feels when one is destined to see one's love again!—Ah! there are presentiments that do not mislead us!—Well! as I was standing at the end of Rue Saint-Paul, I heard cries, followed by shots; then a man passed me, flying for his life. I recognized Giovanni's cap and cloak, and I ran after him, supposing him to be my lover; I called to him, I implored him to answer me, to listen to me; I could not obtain a single word. But the fugitive was wounded, he was losing blood; and as he entered Place Royale he slackened his pace, so that I was able at last to overtake him."
"Well! it was Giovanni——"
"For the first moment or two I still thought so, madame; but, surprised by his persistence in trying to continue his flight without answering me, I examined him closely; he was taller than Giovanni, his head was set differently on his shoulders; in short, my heart had already told me—no, it was not Giovanni! The man tried to escape; I clung to his cloak, and he sought in vain to release himself, to shake me off.—Ah! I was very strong then!—I succeeded in pulling off his false beard and his cap—the moon lighted us perfectly—and in the man who had assumed Giovanni's costume and headgear I recognized Comte Léodgard de Marvejols!"
"Léodgard! Léodgard!" cried Valentine, fastening her eyes upon the girl's, to satisfy herself that she had not gone mad. "Oh! Miretta! what are you saying? Why, you were mistaken—you were misled by an error of your eyesight, by some resemblance perhaps—but that Comte Léodgard should have assumed the disguise of Giovanni—consider, pray, that it is utterly impossible!—With what object would he do it?"
"Why—to do what Giovanni used to do, I presume."
"Oh! Miretta, what you say is shocking! Why, it is utterly devoid of sense, and I blush to think that I have listened to you!"
"I suspected that madame would not choose to believe me; but before long, I trust, the truth will be made known, and madame will be forced to recognize that I am not the dupe of a mere illusion!"