en deceived by them, or
by the indifferent manner in which he added: "You bring me some money
from Baron Trigault?"

Pascal shook his head, as he replied: "I regret to say that I don't,
Monsieur le Marquis."

This response had the same effect as a heavy rock falling upon M.
de Valorsay's bald pate. He turned whiter than his linen, and even
tottered, as if his lame leg, which was so much affected by sudden
changes in the weather, had utterly refused all service. "What! You
haven't--this is undoubtedly a joke."

"It is only too serious!"

"But I had the baron's word."

"Oh! his word!"

"I had his solemn promise."

"It is sometimes impossible to keep one's promises, sir."

The consequences of this disappointment must have been terrible, for the
marquis could not maintain his self-control. Still he strove valiantly
to conceal his emotion. He thought to himself that if he allowed this
man to see what a terrible blow this really was, he would virtually
confess his absolute ruin, and have to renounce the struggle, and own
himself vanquished and lost. So, summoning all his energy, he mastered
his emotion in some degree, and, instead of appearing desperate,
succeeded in looking only irritated and annoyed. "In short," he resumed,
angrily, "you have brought no money! I counted on a hundred thousand
francs this morning. Nothing! This is kind on the baron's part! But
probably he doesn't understand the embarrassing position in which he
places me."

"Excuse me, Monsieur le Marquis, he understands it so well that, instead
of informing you by a simple note, he sent me to acquaint you with his
sincere regret. When I left him an hour ago, he was really disconsolate.
He was particularly anxious I should tell you that it was not his fault.
He counted upon the payment of two very large amounts, and both of these
have failed him."

The marquis had now recovered a little from the shock, though he was
still very pale. He looked at Pascal with evident distrust, for he knew
with what sweet excuses well-bred people envelope their refusals. "So
the baron is disconsolate," he remarked, in a tone of perceptible irony.

"He is indeed!"

"Poor baron! Ah! I pity him--pity him deeply."

As cold and as unmoved as a statue, Pascal seemed quite unconscious
of the effect of the message he had brought--quite unconscious of
Valorsay's sufferings and self-constraint. "You think I am jesting,
monsieur," he said, quietly, "but I assure you that