She found herself alone in the street once more, but this time with a feeling of relief such as she had never known. She was certain she would never see him again and that a new life was starting for her, then and there. Sometime later, overhearing in a conversation the phrases “youthful indiscretion” and “bad company,” she thought that she, too, had committed a “youthful indiscretion” after mixing with “bad company.” But she had already practically forgotten that man and their last meeting in the church of Saint-Louis d’Antin. What exactly, she wondered, was a youthful indiscretion? Most of the time, practically nothing. At her age, everything scarred over very fast, and soon there was no longer even a trace of scar tissue. No more hostile witnesses. No more traces of anything. Innocence, once more.