“Alas!” said the doctor, in a sorrowful tone; “always this unfortunate delusion, that you are not in want of our care!—­that I am playing a part, when I talk to you of the sad state in which you were when we were obliged to bring you hither by stratagem.  Still, with the exception of this little sign of rebellious insanity, your condition has marvellously improved.  You are on the high-road to a complete cure.  By-and-by, your excellent heart will render me the justice that is due to me; and, one day, I shall be judged as I deserve.”

“I, believe it, sir; the day approaches, in which you will be judged as you deserve,” said Adrienne, laying great stress upon the two words.

“Always that other fixed idea,” said the doctor with a sort of commiseration.  “Come, be reasonable.  Do not think of this childishness.”

“What! renounce my intention to demand at the hands of justice reparation for myself, and disgrace for you and your accomplices?  Never, sir—­never!”

“Well!” said the doctor, shrugging his shoulders; “once at liberty, thank heaven, you will have many other things to think of, my fair enemy.”

“You forget piously the evil that you do; but I, sir, have a better memory.”

“Let us talk seriously.  Have you really the intention of applying to the courts?” inquired Dr. Baleinier, in a grave tone.

“Yes, sir, and you know that what I intend, I firmly carry out.”

“Well!  I can only conjure you not to follow out this idea,” replied the doctor, in a still more solemn tone; “I ask it as a favor, in the name of your own interest.”

“I think, sir, that you are a little too ready to confound your interest with mine.”

“Now come,” said Dr. Baleinier, with a feigned impatience, as if quite certain of convincing Mdlle. de Cardoville on the instant; “would you have the melancholy courage to plunge into despair two persons full of goodness and generosity?”

“Only two?  The jest would be complete, if you were to reckon three:  you, sir, and my aunt, and Abbe d’Aigrigny; for these are no doubt the generous persons in whose name you implore my pity.”

“No, madame; I speak neither of myself, nor of your aunt, nor of Abbe d’Aigrigny.”

“Of whom, then, sir?” asked Mdlle. de Cardoville with surprise.

“Of two poor fellows, who, no doubt sent by those whom you call your friends, got into the neighboring convent the other night, and thence into this garden.  The guns which you heard go off were fired at them.”

“Alas!  I thought so.  They refused to tell me if either of them was wounded,” said Adrienne, with painful emotion.

“One of them received a wound, but not very serious, since he was able to fly and escape pursuit.”

“Thank God!” cried Mdlle. de Cardoville, clasping her hands with fervor.

“It is quite natural that you should rejoice at their escape, but by what strange contradiction do you now wish to put the officers of justice on their track?  A singular manner, truly, of rewarding their devotion!”