ing that he will yet save himself, when suddenly a heavy stone
which he had loosened in his descent, falls forward and crushes him. All
that he had so far endured was nothing in comparison with the thought
that Valorsay would wed Marguerite. Was such a thing possible? Would
God permit such a monstrous iniquity? "No, that shall never be," he
muttered. "I will murder the scoundrel rather; and afterward justice may
do whatever it likes with me."

He experienced that implacable, merciless thirsting for vengeance
which does not even recoil before the commission of a crime to secure
satisfaction, and this longing inflamed him with such energy that,
although he had been so utterly exhausted a few moments before--he was
not half an hour in making his way back to his new home. His mother, who
was waiting for him with an anxious heart, was surprised by the flush
on his cheeks, and the light glittering in his eyes. "Ah, you bring good
news," she exclaimed.

His only answer was to hand her the letter which Madame Leon had given
him, saying as he did so, "Read."

Madame Ferailleur's eyes fell upon the words: "Once more, and for the
last time, farewell!" She understood everything, turned very pale, and
in a trembling voice exclaimed: "Don't grieve, my son; the girl did not
love you."

"Oh, mother! if you knew----"

But she checked him with a gesture, and lifting her head proudly, she
said: "I know what it is to love, Pascal--it is to have perfect faith.
If the whole world had accused your father of a crime, would a single
doubt of his innocence have ever entered my mind? This girl has doubted
you. They have told her that you cheated at cards--and she has believed
it. You have failed to see that this oath at the bedside of the dying
count is only an excuse."

It was true; the thought had not occurred to Pascal. "My God!" he cried
in agony; "are you the only one who believes in my innocence?"

"Without proofs--yes. It must be your task to obtain these proofs."

"And I shall obtain them," he rejoined, in a tone of determination. "I
am strong now that I have Marguerite's life to defend--for they have
deceived her, mother, or she would never have given me up. Oh! don't
shake your head. I love her, and so I trust her."

XVII.

M. Isidore Fortunat was not the man to go to sleep over a plan when it
was once formed. Whenever he said to himself, "I'll do this, or that,"
he did it as soon as possible--that very evening, rath