m her this
evening, and you will see her to-morrow. And above all, don't forget
that you are henceforth Madame Maumejan."

Occupied with these arrangements for the future, he was still talking,
when Madame Ferailleur, drawing out her watch, gently remarked: "And
your appointment? You forget that the cab is waiting at the door."

It was true; he had forgotten it. He caught up his hat, hastily
embraced his mother, and sprang into the vehicle. The horses were almost
exhausted, but the driver was so willing that he found a means of making
them trot as far as the Rue de Courcelles. However, on arriving there,
he declared that his animals and himself could endure no more, and after
receiving the amount due to him, he departed.

The air was chilly, the night dark, and the street deserted. The gloomy
silence was only disturbed at long intervals by the opening or shutting
of a door, or by the distant tread of some belated pedestrian. Having at
least twenty minutes to wait, Pascal sat down on the curbstone opposite
the Hotel de Chalusse, and fixed his eyes upon the building as if he
were striving to penetrate the massive walls, and see what was passing
within. Only one window--that of the room where the dead man was
lying--was lighted up, and he could vaguely distinguish the motionless
form of a woman standing with her forehead pressed against the pane
of glass. A prey to the indescribable agony which seizes a man when
he feels that his life is at stake--that his future is about to be
irrevocably decided--Pascal counted the seconds as they passed by. He
found it impossible to reflect, to deliberate, to decide on any plan
of action. He forgot the tortures he had endured during the last
twenty-four hours; Coralth, Valorsay, Madame d'Argeles, the baron, no
longer existed for him. He forgot his loss of honor and position, and
the disgrace attached to his name. The past was annihilated, as it
were, and he could think of no future beyond the next few moments. His
physical condition undoubtedly contributed to his mental weakness. He
had taken no food that day, and he was faint from want of nourishment.
He had come without an overcoat, moreover, and the cold night air
chilled him to the bone. There was a strange ringing in his ears, and
a mist swam before his eyes. At last the bell at the Beaujon Hospital
tolled the appointed hour, and roused him from his lethargy. He seemed
to hear a voice crying to him in the darkness, "Up! the hour