utenant inquire in a stern,
imperious voice: "Where is my father?"

"The General has just gone to his club."

"And my mother?"

"A friend of hers called a few moments ago to take her to the opera."

"What madness!"

That was all. The outer door opened and closed again with extreme
violence, and then Marguerite heard nothing save the sneering remarks of
the servants.

It was, indeed, madness on the part of M. and Madame de Fondege not
to have waited to learn the result of this interview, planned by
themselves, and upon which their very lives depended. But delirium
seemed to have seized them since, thanks to a still inexplicable crime,
they had suddenly found themselves in possession of an immense fortune.
Perhaps in this wild pursuit of pleasure, in the haste they displayed
to satisfy their covetous longings, they hoped to forget or silence
the threatening voice of conscience. Such was Mademoiselle Marguerite's
conclusion; but she was not long left to undisturbed meditation. By the
lieutenant's departure the restrictions which had been placed upon the
servants' movements had evidently been removed, for they came in to
clear the table.

Having with some little difficulty obtained a candle from one of these
model servants, Mademoiselle Marguerite now retired to her own room. In
her anxiety, she forgot Madame Leon, but the latter had not forgotten
her; she was even now listening at the drawing-room door, inconsolable
to think that she had not succeeded in hearing at least part of the
conversation between the lieutenant and her dear young lady. Marguerite
had no wish to reflect over what had occurred. As she was determined
to keep the promise which Lieutenant Gustave had wrung from her, it
mattered little whether she had committed a great mistake in allowing
him to discover her knowledge of his parent's guilt, and in listening
to his entreaties. A secret presentiment warned her that the punishment
which would overtake the General and his wife would be none the less
terrible, despite her own forbearance, and that they would find their
son more inexorable than the severest judge.

The essential thing was to warn the old magistrate; and so in a couple
of pages she summarized the scene of the evening, feeling sure that she
would find an opportunity to post her letter on the following day. This
duty accomplished, she took a book and went to bed, hoping to drive away
her gloomy thoughts by reading. But the hope was vain.