I was on thorns, and my heart beat fast, for I thought I should have to
read out the address of the convent. I do not know what I should have
done if my fears had been well grounded, but I should certainly not have
gone to the convent. At last I read what was written; it was "Place
Maubert," and I grew calm once more.

I told the coachman to drive us to the Place Maubert. We set off, and in
a short time stopped at the opening of an obscure back street before a
dirty-looking house, which did not give one a high idea of the character
of its occupants. I gave Madame X. C. V. my arm, and she had the
satisfaction of looking into every room in the five floors of the house,
but what she sought for was not there, and I expected to see her
overwhelmed with grief. I was mistaken, however. She looked distressed
but satisfied, and her eyes seemed to ask pardon of me. She had found out
from the coachman, who had taken her daughter on the first stage of her
journey, that she had alighted in front of the house in question, and had
gone down the back street. She told me that the scullion had confessed
that he had taken me letters twice from his young mistress, and that
Madelaine said all the time that she was sure her mistress and I were in
love with each other. They played their parts well.

As soon as I had seen Madame X. C. V. safely home, I went to Madame du
Rumain to tell her what had happened; and I then wrote to my fair
recluse, telling her what had gone on in the world since her
disappearance.

Three or four days after this date, Madame du Rumain gave me the first
letter I received from Mdlle. X. C. V. She spoke in it of the quiet life
she was leading, and her gratitude to me, praised the abbess and the
lay-sister, and gave me the titles of the books they lent her, which she