The magistrate understood everything at the first glance; and this man,
who had witnessed so much misery--who had been the confidant of so many
martyrs--was filled with consternation at thought of the misfortunes
which destiny was heaping upon this defenceless girl. He approached her,
and led her gently to an arm-chair, upon which she sank, half fainting.
"Poor child!" he murmured. "The man you had chosen--the man whom you
would have sacrificed everything for--is Pascal Ferailleur, is he not?"

"Yes, it is he."

"He is an advocate?"

"As I have already told you, monsieur."

"Does he live in the Rue d'Ulm?"

"Yes."

The magistrate shook his head sadly. "It is the same," said he. "I also
know him, my poor child; and I loved and honored him. Yesterday I should
have told you that he was worthy of you. He was above slander. But now,
see what depths love of play has brought him to. He is a thief!"

Mademoiselle Marguerite's weakness vanished. She sprang from her
chair, and indignantly faced the magistrate. "It is false!" she cried,
vehemently; "and what that paper says is false as well!"

Had her reason been affected by so many successive blows? It seemed
likely; for, livid a moment before, her face had now turned scarlet. She
trembled nervously from head to foot, and there was a gleam of insanity
in her big black eyes.

"If she doesn't weep, she is lost," thought the magistrate. And, instead
of encouraging her to hope, he deemed it best to try and destroy what he
considered a dangerous illusion. "Alas! my poor child," he said sadly,
"you must not deceive yourself. The newspapers are often hasty in their
judgment; but an article like that is only published when proof of its
truth is furnished by witnesses of unimpeachable veracity."

She shrugged her shoulders as if she were listening to some monstrous
absurdities, and then thoughtfully muttered: "Ah! now Pascal's silence
is explained: now I understand why he has not yet replied to the letter
I wrote him last night."

The magistrate persevered, however, and added: "So, after the article
you have just read, no one can entertain the shadow of a doubt."

Mademoiselle Marguerite hastily interrupted him. "But I have not doubted
him for a second!" she exclaimed. "Doubt Pascal! I doubt Pascal! I would
sooner doubt myself. I might commit a dishonorable act; I am only a
poor, weak, ignorant girl, while he--he----You don't know, then, that
he was my conscience? Before un