e journeyed to the cemetery,
following all that was mortal of the man who had been her only thought,
her love, her pride, her happiness, and hope. Though crushed by the
sense of her irreparable loss, she had not rebelled against the hand
that struck her; but now it was human wickedness that assailed her
through her son, and her suffering was like that of the innocent man who
perishes for want of power to prove his innocence. Her husband's death
had not caused her such bitter tears as her son's dishonor. She who was
so proud, and who had such good reason to be proud, she could note the
glances of scorn she was favored with as she left her home. She heard
the insulting remarks made by some of her neighbors, who, like so many
folks, found their chief delight in other people's misfortunes.

"Crocodile tears," some had exclaimed. "She is going to meet her son;
and with what he has stolen they will live like princes in America."
Rumor, which enlarges and misrepresents everything, had, indeed,
absurdly exaggerated the affair at Madame d'Argeles's house. It was
reported in the Rue d'Ulm that Pascal had spent every night at the
gaming table for more than five years; and that, being an incomparable
trickster, he had stolen millions.

Meanwhile, Madame Ferailleur was approaching the station. The cab horse
soon slackened its pace to climb the acclivity of the Rue d'Amsterdam;
and shortly afterward the vehicle drew up in the courtyard of the
railway station. Faithfully observing the directions which had been
given her, the worthy woman had her trunks taken to the baggage-room,
declaring that she should not leave Paris until the next day, whereupon
she received a receipt from the man in charge of the room. She was
oppressed by vague apprehensions, and looked closely at every one who
passed her; fearing the presence of spies, and knowing full well that
the most profound secrecy could alone insure the success of Pascal's
plans. However, she did not see a single suspicious looking person.
Some Englishmen--those strange travellers, who are at the same time so
foolishly prodigal and so ridiculously miserly--were making a great hue
and cry over the four sous gratuity claimed by a poor commissionaire;
but these were the only persons in sight.

Partially reassured, Madame Ferailleur hastily ascended the staircase,
and entered the large waiting-room. It was here that Pascal had promised
to meet her; but, though she looked round on all sides