e no proof of his visit. He could see the baron
somewhere else some other day--elsewhere than at his own house, so that
he need not fear the recognition of the servants. These thoughts flashed
through his mind, and he was about to fly, when a harsh cry held him
spell-bound. Baron Trigault was standing on the threshold. His emotion,
as is almost always the case with corpulent people, was evinced by a
frightful distortion of his features. His face was transformed, his
lips had become perfectly white, and his eyes seemed to be starting from
their sockets. "How came you here?" he asked, in a husky voice.

"Your servants ushered me into this room."

"Who are you?"

"What! monsieur, don't you recognize me?" rejoined Pascal, who in his
agitation forgot that the baron had seen him only twice before. He
forgot the absence of his beard, his almost ragged clothing, and all the
precautions he had taken to render recognition impossible.

"I have never met any person named Maumejan," said the baron.

"Ah! monsieur, that's not my name. Have you forgotten the innocent man
who was caught in that infamous snare set for him by the Viscount de
Coralth?"

"Yes, yes," replied the baron, "I remember you now." And then
recollecting the terrible scene that had just taken place in the
adjoining room: "How long have you been here?" he asked.

Should Pascal tell a falsehood, or confess the truth? He hesitated, but
his hesitation lasted scarcely the tenth part of a second. "I have been
here about half an hour," he replied.

The baron's livid cheeks suddenly became purple, his eyes glittered, and
it seemed by his threatening gesture as if he were strongly tempted to
murder this man, who had discovered the terrible, disgraceful secrets
of his domestic life. But it was a mere flash of energy. The terrible
ordeal which he had just passed through had exhausted him mentally and
physically, and it was in a faltering voice that he resumed: "Then you
have not lost a word--a word of what was said in the other room?"

"Not a word."

The baron sank on to the divan. "So the knowledge of my disgrace is
no longer confined to myself!" he exclaimed. "A stranger's eye has
penetrated the depths of misery I have fallen into! The secret of my
wretchedness and shame is mine no longer!"

"Oh, monsieur, monsieur!" interrupted Pascal. "Before I recross the
threshold of your home, all shall have been forgotten. I swear it by all
that is most sacred!"

He had