Her purity, her goodness, all that which resembled her in Nature, returned to her and saved her.

Now she was no longer afraid, for she knew that she was watched over.

Agnes had come back with the wandering, gentle virgins, and in the air she breathed was a sweet calmness, which, notwithstanding her intense sadness, strengthened her in her resolve to die rather than fail in her duty or break her promise.

At last, quite exhausted, she crept back into her bed, falling asleep again with the fear of the morrow's trials, constantly tormented by the idea that she must succumb in the end, if her weakness thus increased each day.
In fact, a languor gained fearfully upon Angelique since she thought Felicien no longer loved her.

She was deeply wounded and silent, uncomplaining; she seemed to be dying hourly.