She thought again of that moonlit night, and Elise's window, and a kind
of hatred of the man came up in her. No, no, she was wrong; he was not
the true thing.

"Dear avocat," she said suddenly, "you are a good friend. May I have
always as good! But have you ever thought that this thing may end in
sore disaster? Are we doing right? Is the man worthy our friendship
and our adherence?"

"Ah, dear madame, convictions, principles, truth, they lead to good ends
--somewhere. I have a letter here from Monsieur Valmond. It breathes
noble things; it has humour, too--ah, yes, so quaint! I am to see him
this afternoon--he returns to the Louis Quinze to-day. The Cure and I--"

She laid her hand on his arm, interrupting him. "Will you take me this
evening to Monsieur Valmond, dear friend?" she asked.

She saw now how useless it was to attempt anything through these admirers
of Valmond; she must do it herself. He must be firmly and finally warned
and dissuaded. The conviction had suddenly come to her with great force,
that the end was near--come to her as it came to Elise. Her wise mind
had seen the sure end; Elise's heart had felt it.

The avocat readily promised. She was to call for him at a little before
eight o'clock. But she decided that she would first seek Elise; before
she accused the man, she would question the woman. Above and beyond all
anger she felt at this miserable episode, there was pity in her heart for
the lonely girl. She was capable of fierce tempers, of great caprices,
of even wild injustice, when her emotions had their way with her; but her