"This is your friend?"
"Yes, monseigneur."
Bathilde tottered; fear and excitement made her heart beat furiously. But, despite her prostration and her extreme pallor, her beautiful and refined features were still fascinating, and the old man seemed impressed by the sweetness and charm of her face.
He gazed at her a few seconds in silence, then placed his hand on the girl's arm and said:
"Do not tremble, my child; calm your emotion; you are not here as an accused person."
With that, the marquis returned to the two gentlemen who had come with him, and they all took their seats in the armchairs at the end of the hall.
In a moment a man clad in the black costume then worn by men of the law took his place in front of the table, on which papers and parchments were strewn.
Old Hector appeared at one of the doors and made a slight motion with his head to his master, who said:
"You may admit him now."
Hector left the hall by the door through which Bathilde and her friends had entered; a few moments later, a man appeared at that door; he was pale and his emotion was apparent, but his glance was stern. He had donned his old uniform, which he had ceased to wear except on solemn occasions. He carried his head erect, and his step was firm as he walked into the hall without turning his eyes in the direction of Bathilde, who shuddered at sight of him, and hid her face against Ambroisine's bosom, murmuring: