On the day following this conversation, Ambroisine was alone in her father's shop, just at nightfall, when the Black Chevalier crossed the street, halted in front of her, and said in a curt tone which ill dissembled what was taking place in his heart:
"That poor girl—your friend—can I do anything for her yet?"
Ambroisine looked up at Jarnonville, and, as if struck by a sudden idea, cried:
"Pardon me, seigneur; you can assist me to restore her honor, perhaps.—For I see plainly that my poor Bathilde cannot console herself for the abandonment of her lover and the curses of her mother. Since yesterday an idea, a hope, has come into my mind. Heaven, doubtless, suggested it to me.—Sire de Jarnonville, Comte Léodgard's father is still living, is he not?"
"To be sure—the Marquis de Marvejols."
"What sort of man is he?"
"The old Seigneur de Marvejols is an upright, just man, who is sensitive to the last degree in the matter of honor. Proud of the name that his ancestors have handed down to him, he is no less proud of having no unjust act for which to reproach himself in the whole course of his life. Stern in his speech, he has nevertheless a sensitive and generous heart; the evil-minded may tremble before him; the unfortunate never."
"What you tell me, seigneur, confirms me in my plan."
"To go to Comte Léodgard's father, to lay before him the whole story of his son's behavior toward Bathilde, and the events that have resulted from it, and to demand justice for the victim of a shameful seduction."