ment. So, desirous of making a full confession, she hastily exclaimed:
"My conduct may have seemed strange in a young girl, Pascal. A timid,
inexperienced girl, who had been carefully kept from all knowledge of
life and evil, would have been crushed by such a burden of disgrace,
and could only have wept and prayed. I did weep and pray; but I also
struggled and fought. In the hour of peril I found myself endowed with
some of the courage and energy which distinguished the poor women of the
people among whom I formerly earned my bread. The teachings and miseries
of the past were not lost to me!" And as simply as if she were telling
the most natural thing in the world, she described the struggle she had
undertaken against the world, strong in her faith in Pascal and in his
love.

"Ah, you are a noble and courageous girl!" exclaimed Madame Ferailleur.
"You are worthy of my son, and you will proudly guard our honest name!"

For some little time already the obstinate old lady had been struggling
against the sympathetic emotion that filled her heart, and big tears
were coursing down her wrinkled cheeks.

Unable to restrain herself any longer, she now threw both arms around
Marguerite's neck, and drew her toward her in a long embrace, murmuring:
"Marguerite, my daughter! Ah! how unjust my prejudices were!"

It might be thought that Pascal was transported with joy on hearing
this, but no: the lines of care on his forehead deepened, as he said:
"Happiness is so near! Why must a final test, another humiliation,
separate us from it?"

But Marguerite now felt strong enough to meet even martyrdom with a
smile. "Speak, Pascal!" said she, "don't you see that it is almost ten
o'clock?"

He hesitated; there was grief in his eyes and his breath came quick and
hard, as he resumed: "For your sake and mine, we must conquer, at any
price. This is the only reason that can justify the horrible expedient
I have to suggest. M. de Valorsay, as you know, has boasted of his power
to overcome your resistance, and he really believes that he possesses
this power. Why I have not killed him again and again when he has been
at my mercy, I can scarcely understand. The only thing that gave me
power to restrain myself was my desire for as sure, as terrible, and
as public a revenge as the humiliation he inflicted on me. His plan for
your ruin is such as only a scoundrel like himself could conceive.
With the assistance of his vile tool, Coralth, he has fo