Armance, in despair, saw herself at once disgraced for ever and betrayed by her lover. She sat down for a moment on the landing of the stair. She decided to go and knock at the door of Madame de Malivert’s maid. The girl was asleep and did not answer. Madame de Malivert, with a vague fear that her son might be ill, took her nightlight and came to the door of her own room; she was alarmed by the expression on Armance’s face. “What has happened to Octave?” cried Madame de Malivert. “Nothing, Madame, nothing at all to Octave, it is only I who am in distress and miserable at having disturbed your sleep. My idea was to speak to Madame Dérien and to ask for you only if I was told that you were still awake.” “My child, you increase my alarm with all these Madames . Something strange has happened. Is Octave ill?” “No, Mama,” said Armance and burst into tears, “it is only that I am a ruined girl.”

Madame de Malivert took her into her bedroom, and there Armance told her what had just happened to her, concealing nothing and passing nothing over in silence, not even her own jealousy. Her heart, crushed by all her miseries, had not the strength to keep anything back.

Madame de Malivert was appalled. Suddenly she exclaimed: “There is no time to be lost, give me my pelisse, my poor child, my dear child,” and she kissed her again and again with all the passion of a mother. “Light my candle, and do you stay here.” Madame de Malivert ran to her son’s room; fortunately the door was not locked; she entered quietly, awoke Octave and told him what had occurred. “My brother may ruin us,” said Madame de Malivert, “and, to judge by appearances, he will not miss the opportunity. Rise, go to his room, tell him that I have had a sort of seizure in your room. Can you think of anything better?” “Yes, Mama, to marry Armance tomorrow, if that angel will still have me.”

This unexpected speech was a fulfilment of Madame de Malivert’s dearest wish; she embraced her son, but added, on second thoughts: “Your uncle does not like Armance, he may talk; he will promise to keep silence, but he has his servant who will talk by his order, and whom he will then dismiss for having talked. I stick to my idea of a seizure. This make-believe will keep us painfully busy for three days, but your wife’s honour is more precious than anything else. Remember to appear greatly alarmed. As soon as you have told the Commander, go down to my room, tell Armance of our plan. When the Commander passed her on the stair, I was in your room, and she was going to fetch Madame Dérien.” Octave hastened to tell his uncle, whom he found wide awake. The Commander looked at him with a derisive expression which turned all his emotion to anger. Octave left M. de Soubirane to fly to his mother’s room: “Is it possible,” he said to Armance, “that you have not been in love with the Chevalier de Bonnivet, and that he is not the mysterious husband of whom you spoke to me once, long ago?” “I have a horror of the Chevalier. But you, Octave, are not you in love with Madame d’Aumale?” “Never as long as I live will I see her again or give her another thought,” said Octave. “Dear Armance, deign to say that you accept me as a husband. Heaven is punishing me for having kept you in the dark as to my shooting expeditions, I was whistling for the keeper, who did not answer.” Octave’s protestations had all the warmth but not all the delicacy of true passion; Armance thought she could make out that he was performing a duty while his thoughts were elsewhe............