ot been followed, Marguerite eagerly approached the
vehicle, whereupon a kindly voice exclaimed: "Jump in quickly,
mademoiselle."

Marguerite obeyed, and the door was scarcely closed behind her before
the driver had urged his horse into a gallop. He had evidently received
his instructions in advance, as well as the promise of a magnificent
gratuity.

Sitting side by side on the back seat, the old lady and the young girl
remained silent, but this did not prevent them from casting stealthy
glances at each other, and striving to distinguish one another's
features whenever the vehicle passed in front of some brilliantly
lighted shop. They had never met before, and their anxiety to become
acquainted was intense, for they each felt that the other would exert
a decisive influence upon her life. All of Madame Ferailleur's friends
would undoubtedly have been surprised at the step she had taken, and
yet it was quite in accordance with her character. As long as she had
entertained any hope of preventing this marriage she had not hesitated
to express and even exaggerate her objections and repugnance. But her
point of view was entirely changed when conquered by the strength of her
son's passion, she at last yielded a reluctant consent. The young girl
who was destined to be her daughter-in-law at once became sacred in her
eyes; and it seemed to her an act of duty to watch over Marguerite, and
shield her reputation. Having considered the subject, she had decided
that it was not proper for her son's betrothed to run about the streets
alone in the evening. Might it not compromise her honor? and later on
might it not furnish venomous Madame de Fondege with an opportunity to
exercise her slanderous tongue? Thus the puritanical old lady had come
to fetch Marguerite, so that whenever occasion required she might be
able to say: "I was there!"

As for Marguerite, after the trials of the day, she yielded without
reserve to the feeling of rest and happiness that now filled her heart.
Again and again had Pascal spoken of his mother's prejudices and the
inflexibility of her principles. But he had also spoken of her dauntless
energy, the nobility of her nature, and of her love and devotion to
him. With Marguerite, moreover, one consideration--one which she
would scarcely have admitted, perhaps--outweighed all others: Madame
Ferailleur was Pascal's mother. For that reason alone, if for no other,
she was prepared to worship her. How fervently she