Her hair, which was already loosened, escaped entirely from its bonds, and she felt it rise on her head as the figures on the tapestry moved and bent towards her.

Falling on her knees and closing her eyes, she began to invoke the aid of God and all the saints.
But she soon felt herself raised by strong arms, and looking round, she found herself in the presence of an unknown man, who seemed to have issued from the ground or the walls, and who, seizing the only light left unextinguished in the scuffle, dragged her more dead than alive into the next room.
This man was, as the reader will have already guessed, Maitre Quennebert.

As soon as the chevalier and the duke had disappeared, the notary had run towards the corner where the widow lay, and having made sure that she was really unconscious, and unable to see or hear anything, so that it would be quite safe to tell her any story he pleased next day, he returned to his former position, and applying his shoulder to the partition, easily succeeded in freeing the ends of the rotten laths from the nails which held there, and, pushing them before him, made an aperture large enough to allow of his passing through into the next apartment.

He applied himself to this task with such vigour, and became so absorbed in its accomplishment, that he entirely forgot the bag of twelve hundred livres which the widow had given him.
"Who are you?
What do you want with me ?" cried Mademoiselle de Guerchi, struggling to free herself.
"Silence!" was Quennebert's answer.
"Don't kill me, for pity's sake!" "Who wants to kill you?
But be silent; I don't want your shrieks to call people here.

I must be alone with you for a few moments.