. "Let her come in!" exclaimed M. Fortunat, eagerly--"let her
come in!"

Mademoiselle Marguerite had not been compelled to resort to any
subterfuge to make her escape from Madame de Fondege's house. The
General had decamped early in the morning to try his horses and his
carriages, announcing, moreover, that he would breakfast at the club.
And as soon as her breakfast was concluded, Madame de Fondege had
hurried off to her dressmaker's, warning the household that she would
not return before dinner-time. A little while later, Madame Leon had
suddenly remembered that her noble relative would certainly be expecting
a visit from her, and so she dressed herself in haste, and went off,
first to Dr. Jodon's and thence to the Marquis de Valorsay's.

Thus, Mademoiselle Marguerite had been able to make her escape without
attracting any one's attention, and she would be able to remain away as
many hours as she chose, since the servants would not know how long she
had been absent even if they saw her when she returned. An empty cab was
passing as she left the house, so she hailed it and got in. The step she
was about to take cost her a terrible effort. It was a difficult task
for her, a girl naturally so reserved, to confide in a stranger, and
open to him her maidenly heart, filled with love for Pascal Ferailleur!
Still, she was much calmer than she had been on the previous evening,
when she called on the photographer for a facsimile of M. de Valorsay's
letter. Several circumstances combined to reassure her. M. Fortunat
knew her already, since he was the agent whom the Count de Chalusse
had employed to carry on the investigations which had resulted in her
discovery at the foundling asylum. A vague presentiment told her that
this man was better acquainted with her past life than she was herself,
and that he could, if he chose, tell her her mother's name--the name of
the woman whom the count so dreaded, and who had so pitilessly deserted
her. However, her heart beat more quickly, and she felt that she was
turning pale when, at Madame Dodelin's invitation, she at last entered
M. Fortunat's private office. She took in the room and its occupants
with a single glance. The handsome appointments of the office surprised
her, for she had expected to see a den. The agent's polite manner and
rather elegant appearance disconcerted her, for she had expected to
meet a coarse and illiterate boor; and finally, Victor Chupin, who was
standing twisti