unprotected. Even if you had sufficient strength of
character to lead a pure and honest life, the world would none the less
refuse you its esteem. Mere prejudice, you say? You are quite right; but
it is nevertheless true that a young girl who braves public opinion is
lost."

It was easy to see by Madame de Fondege's earnestness that she feared
Mademoiselle Marguerite would avail herself of this opportunity of
recovering her liberty. "What shall I do, then?" asked the girl.

"There is the convent."

"But I love life."

"Then ask the protection of some respectable family."

"The idea of being in any one's charge is disagreeable to me."

Strange to say, Madame de Fondege did not protest, did not speak of her
own house. She was too proud for that. Having once offered hospitality,
she thought it would arouse suspicion if she insisted. So she contented
herself with enumerating the arguments for and against the two
propositions, remarking from time to time: "Come, you must decide! Don't
wait until the last moment!"

Mademoiselle Marguerite had already decided but before announcing
her decision she wished to confer with the only friend she had in the
world--the old justice of the peace. On the previous evening he had said
to her: "Farewell until to-morrow," and knowing that his work in the
house had not been concluded, she was extremely surprised that he had
not yet put in an appearance.

While conversing with Madame de Fondege she had dexterously avoided
compromising herself in any way when suddenly a servant appeared and
announced the magistrate's arrival. He entered the room, with his usual
benevolent smile upon his lips, but his searching eyes were never once
taken off Madame de Fondege's face. He bowed, made a few polite remarks,
and then addressing Marguerite, he said: "I must speak with you,
mademoiselle, at once. You may tell madame, however, that you will
certainly return in less than a quarter of an hour."

Marguerite followed him, and when they were alone in the count's study
and the doors had been carefully closed, the magistrate exclaimed: "I
have been thinking a great deal of you, my child, a great deal; and
it seems to me that I can explain certain things which worried you
yesterday. But first of all, what has happened since I left you?"

Briefly, but with remarkable precision, Marguerite recounted the various
incidents which had occurred--her useless journey to the Rue d'Ulm,
Madame Leon's strange m