"She is mad!" exclaimed M. de Chandore, falling back into his chair.
"She is mad!"

But he was overcome; and the next day, at five in the afternoon, his
heart torn by unspeakable grief, he went down the steep street with
his daughter on his arm. Dionysia had chosen her simplest and plainest
dress; and the little bag she carried on her arm contained not sixteen
but twenty thousand francs. As a matter of course, it had been necessary
to take the marchioness into their confidence; but neither she, nor the
Misses Lavarande, nor M. Folgat, had raised an objection. Down to the
prison, grandfather and grandchild had not exchanged a word; but, when
they reached it, Dionysia said,--

"I see Mrs. Blangin at the door: let us be careful."

They came nearer. Mrs. Blangin saluted them.

"Come, it is time," said the young girl. "Till to-morrow, dear papa! Go
home quickly, and be not troubled about me."

Then joining the keeper's wife, she disappeared inside the prison.



X.

The prison of Sauveterre is in the castle at the upper end of town, in a
poor and almost deserted suburb. This castle, once upon a time of great
importance, had been dismantled at the time of the siege of Rochelle;
and all that remains are a few badly-repaired ruins, ramparts with