The poor creature hoped to work wonders with her eloquence, her tears, her pleading glances.  On hearing her prayer for a reprieve of twenty-four hours, swearing that after that she would never see Jeannin again, the commander and the chevalier were obliged to bite their lips to keep from laughing outright.  But the former soon regained his self-possession, and while Angelique, still on her knees before him, pressed his hands to her bosom, he forced her to raise her head, and looking straight into her eyes, said—­

“To-morrow, madame, if not this evening, he shall know everything, and a meeting shall take place.”

Then pushing her away, he strode towards the door.

“Oh! how unhappy I am!” exclaimed Angelique.

She tried to rise and rush after him, but whether she was really overcome by her feelings, or whether she felt the one chance of prevailing left her was to faint, she uttered a heartrending cry, and the chevalier had no choice but to support her sinking form.

De Jars, on seeing his nephew staggering under this burden, gave a loud laugh, and hurried away.  Two minutes later he was once more at the tavern in the rue Saint-Andre-des-Arts.

“How’s this?  Alone?” said Jeannin.

“Alone.”

“What have you done with the chevalier?”

“I left him with our charmer, who was unconscious, overcome with grief, exhausted Ha! ha! ha!  She fell fainting into his arms!  Ha! ha! ha!”

“It’s quite possible that the young rogue, being left with her in such a condition, may cut me out.”

“Do you think so?—­Ha! ha! ha!”

And de Jars laughed so heartily and so infectiously that his worthy friend was obliged to join in, and laughed till he choked.

In the short silence which followed the departure of the commander, Maitre Quennebert could hear the widow still murmuring something, but he was less disposed than ever to attend to her.

“On my word,” said he, “the scene now going on is more curious than all that went before.  I don’t think that a man has ever found himself in such a position as mine.  Although my interests demand that I remain here and listen, yet my fingers are itching to box the ears of that Chevalier de Moranges.  If there were only some way of getting at a proof of all this!  Ah! now we shall hear something; the hussy is coming to herself.”

And indeed Angelique had opened her eyes and was casting wild looks around her; she put her hand to her brow several times, as if trying to recall clearly what had happened.

“Is he gone?” she exclaimed at last.  “Oh, why did you let him go?  You should not have minded me, but kept him here.”

“Be calm,” answered the chevalier, “be calm, for heaven’s sake.  I shall speak to my uncle and prevent his ruining your prospects.  Only don’t weep any more, your tears break my heart.  Ah, my God! how cruel it is to distress you so!  I should never be able to withstand your tears; no matter what reason I had for anger, a look from you would make me forgive you everything.”