Heputhisfollyfromhimand-wenton，seekingtoholdhismindtotheplanningofhisto-morrow”sjourneyanditsbusiness。HehadnomeanstoknowthatatthatveryhourValeriewasonherkneesbyherlittlewhitebed，intheNorthernTowerofCondillac，prayingforthereposeofthesoulofMonsieurdeGarnache-thebravestgentleman，thenoblestfriendshehadeverknown。Forsheaccountedhimdead，andshethoughtwithhorrorofhisbodylyingintheslimeunderthecoldwatersofthemoatbeneaththewindowofherantechamber。Achangeseemedtohavecomeuponher。Hersoulwasnumb，hercourageseemeddead，andlittlecarehadsheinthathourofwhatmightbetidehernow。
Florimondwascoming，sheremembered：comingtowedher。Ah，well！
Itmatteredlittle，sinceMonsieurdeGarnachewasdead-asthoughitcouldhavematteredhadhebeenliving！
ThreehoursofhislongstridingbroughtGarnacheatlasttoVoiron，andtheechoofhisfootstepsrangthroughthesilentstreetsandscaredastraycatortwothatwerepreyingoutofdoors。Therewasnowatchinthelittletownshipandnolights，butbythemoon”sfaintglimmerGarnachesoughttheinnoftheBeauPaon，andfounditattheendofalittlewandering。Agaudypeacock，withtailspreadwide，wasthesignabovethedooronwhichhethumpedandkickedasifhewouldhavebeatenitdown。
Itopenedaftersomedelay，andaman，halfclad，candleinhand，anight-caponhishoarylocks，showedanangryfaceattheopening。