f, who was slandered as she herself had been
slandered, branded with the most cruel and unjust imputations, and had
neither fortune nor friends. Others might scorn them; but what did they
care for the world's disdain so long as they had the approval of their
consciences? Would not their mutual esteem suffice since they loved each
other? It seemed to Marguerite that their very misfortunes would bind
them more closely to each other, and cement the bonds of their love
more strongly. And if it were absolutely necessary for them to leave
France--ah, well! they would leave it. To them Fatherland would always
be the spot where they lived together.

As the cab approached the Rue d'Ulm she pictured Pascal's sorrow, and
the joy and surprise he would feel when she suddenly appeared before
him, and faltered: "They accuse you--here I am! I know that you are
innocent, and I love you!"

But the brutal voice of the concierge, informing her of Pascal's secret
departure, in the most insulting terms, abruptly dispelled her dreams.
If Pascal had failed her, everything had failed her. If she had lost
him, she had lost her all. The world seemed empty--struggling would be
folly--happiness was only an empty name. She indeed longed for death!

Madame Leon who had a set of formulas adapted to all circumstances,
undertook to console her. "Weep, my dear young lady, weep; it will do
you good. Ah! this is certainly a horrible catastrophe. You are young,
fortunately, and Time is a great consoler. M. Ferailleur isn't the
only man on earth. Others will love you. There are others who love you
already!"

"Silence!" interrupted Marguerite, more revolted than if she had heard
a libertine whispering shameful proposals in her ear. "Silence! I forbid
you to add another word." To speak of another--what sacrilege! Poor
girl. She was one of those whose life is bound up in one love alone, and
if that fails them--it is death!

The thought that she was utterly alone added to the horror of her
situation. Whom could she depend upon? Not on Madame Leon. She
distrusted her; she had no confidence whatever in her. Should she
ask for the advice of either of her suitors? The Marquis de Valorsay
inspired her with unconquerable aversion, and she despised the so-called
General de Fondege. So her only friend, her only protector was a
stranger, the old justice of the peace who had taken her defence, by
crushing the slander of the servants, and whom she had opened her heart