in. But she
was in such haste that she could not stop to tell me any particulars.
Still I gave her my letter, and she promised me a prompt reply from
Marguerite. Everybody will be up and moving about the house to-night,
and she said she could easily make her escape for a few moments. So, at
half-past twelve to-night she will be at the little garden gate, and if
I am promptly at hand, I shall have a reply from Marguerite."

Madame Ferailleur seemed to be expecting something more, and as Pascal
remained silent, she remarked: "You spoke of a great misfortune. In what
does it consist? I do not perceive it."

With an almost threatening gesture, and in a gloomy voice, he answered:
"The misfortune is this: if it had not been for this abominable
conspiracy, which has dishonored me, Marguerite would have been my wife
before a month had elapsed, for now she is free, absolutely free to obey
the dictates of her own will and heart."

"Then why do you complain?"

"Oh, mother! don't you understand? How can I marry her? Would it be
right for me to think of offering her a dishonored name? It seems to me
that I should be guilty of a most contemptible act--of something even
worse than a crime--if I dared speak to her of my love and our future
before I have crushed the villains who have ruined me."

Regret, anger, and the consciousness of his present powerlessness drew
from him tears which fell upon Madame Ferailleur's heart like molten
lead; but she succeeded in concealing her agony. "All the more reason,"
she answered, almost coldly, "why you should not lose a second, but
devote all your energy and intelligence to the work of justification."

"Oh, I shall have my revenge, never fear. But in the meantime, what is
to become of HER? Think, mother, she is alone in the world, without a
single friend. It is enough to drive one mad!"

"She loves you, you tell me. What have you to fear? Now she will be
freed from the persecutions of the suitor they intended to force upon
her, whom she has spoken to you about--the Marquis de Valorsay, is it
not?"

This name sent Pascal's blood to his brain. "Ah, the scoundrel!" he
exclaimed. "If there was a God in heaven----"

"Wretched boy!" interrupted Madame Ferailleur; "you blaspheme when
Providence has already interposed on your behalf. And who suffers most
at this moment, do you think?--you, strong in your innocence, or the
marquis, who realizes that he has committed an infamous crime in vain?"