You will only keep such of our linen
and clothes as you can pack in three or four trunks. We are undoubtedly
watched; and so it is of the utmost importance that every one should
imagine I have left Paris, and that you are going to join me."

"And when everything is sold, and my trunks are ready?"

"Then, mother, you must send some one for a cab, and order the driver to
take you to the Western Railway Station, where you will have the trunks
removed from the cab and placed in the baggage-room, as if you did not
intend to leave Paris till the next day."

"Very good, I will do so; even if any one is watching us, he won't be
likely to suspect this ruse. But afterward?"

"Afterward, mother, you must go to the waiting-room upstairs, and you
will find me there. I will then take you to the rooms I shall have
rented, and to-morrow we'll send a messenger with the receipt the
railway people will give you, to fetch our luggage for us."

Madame Ferailleur approved of this plan, deeming herself fortunate in
this great calamity that despair had not destroyed her son's energy and
resources of mind. "Shall we retain our name, Pascal?"

"Oh, no. That would be an unpardonable imprudence."

"What name shall we take, then? I must know, for they may ask me at the
station."

He reflected for a moment and then said: "We'll take your maiden name,
mother. It will bring us good luck. Our new lodgings shall be hired in
the name of the Widow Maumejan."

They talked for some time longer, anxious to take every precaution
that prudence could suggest. And when they were convinced that they had
forgotten nothing, Madame Ferailleur suggested that Pascal should start
off. But before doing so he had a sacred duty to perform. "I must warn
Marguerite," he muttered. And seating himself at his desk, he wrote his
beloved a concise and exact account of the events which had taken place.
He told her of the course he intended to pursue; and promised her
that she should know his new abode as soon as he knew it himself. In
conclusion, he entreated her to grant him an interview, in which he
could give her the full particulars of the affair and acquaint her
with his hopes. As for exculpating himself, even by so much as a single
word--as for explaining the snare he had been the victim of, the idea
never once occurred to him. He was worthy of Mademoiselle Marguerite;
he knew that not a doubt would disturb the perfect faith she had in his
honor.

Leaning over h