d to
associate with a girl like me--a nameless girl, who humiliated the other
girls with her ill-gotten wealth. The superior tried to take my part;
but these ladies declared they would take their daughters from the
convent if I were not sent away. There was no help for it: I was
sacrificed. Summoned by telegraph, M. de Chalusse hastened to Lyons, and
two days later I left Sainte-Marthe with jeers and opprobrious epithets
ringing in my ears."

X.

Once before, that very morning, the magistrate had witnessed a display
of the virile energy with which misfortune and suffering had endowed
this proud but naturally timid girl. But he was none the less surprised
at the sudden explosion of hatred which he now beheld; for it was
hatred. The way in which Mademoiselle Marguerite's voice had quivered as
she pronounced the name of Anais de Rochecote proved, unmistakably, that
hers was one of those haughty natures that never forget an insult. All
signs of fatigue had now disappeared. She had sprung from her chair,
and remembrance of the shameful, cowardly affront she had received had
brought a vivid flush to her cheeks and a bright gleam to her eyes.

"This atrocious humiliation happened scarcely a year ago, monsieur," she
resumed; "and there is but little left for me to tell you. My expulsion
from Sainte-Marthe made M. de Chalusse frantic with indignation. He knew
something that I was ignorant of--that Madame de Rochecote, who enacted
the part of a severe and implacable censor, was famed for the laxity
of her morals. The count's first impulse was to wreak vengeance on my
persecutors; for, in spite of his usual coolness, M. de Chalusse had a
furious temper at times. It was only with the greatest difficulty that
I dissuaded him from challenging General de Rochecote, who was living
at the time. However, it now became necessary to make some other
arrangements for me. M. de Chalusse offered to find another school,
promising to take such precautions as would insure my peace of mind. But
I interrupted him before he had spoken a dozen words, declaring I would
rather return to the book-binders than chance another such experiment.
And what I said I meant. A subterfuge--a fictitious name, for
instance--could alone shield me from persecution similar to what I had
endured at Sainte-Marthe. But I knew that I was incapable of playing
such a part--I felt that I should somehow confess everything. My
firmness imparted some resolution to M.