hear this exclamation. "And to make
Mademoiselle Marguerite's life one long misery," said he, "I need only
favor her marriage with the marquis. Ah, he would make her cruelly
expiate the crime of her birth."

"But you won't do so!" cried Pascal, in a transport, "it would be
shameful; I won't allow it. Never, I swear before high Heaven! never,
while I live, shall Valorsay marry Marguerite. He may perhaps vanquish
me in the coming struggle; he may lead her to the threshold of the
church, but there he will find me--armed--and I will have justice--human
justice in default of legal satisfaction. And, afterward, the law may
take its course!"

The baron looked at him with deep emotion. "Ah, you know what it is to
love!" he exclaimed; and in a hollow voice, he added: "and thus it was
that I loved Marguerite's mother."

The breakfast-table had not been cleared, and a large decanter of water
was still standing on it. The baron poured out two large glasses, which
he drained with feverish avidity, and then he began to walk aimlessly
about the room.

Pascal held his peace. It seemed to him that his own destiny was being
decided in this man's mind, that his whole future depended upon the
determination he arrived at. A prisoner awaiting the verdict of the jury
could not have suffered more intense anxiety. At last, when a minute,
which seemed a century, had elapsed, the baron paused. "Now as before,
M. Ferailleur," he said, roughly, "I'm for you and with you. Give me
your hand--that's right. Honest people ought to protect and assist one
another when scoundrels assail them. We will reinstate you in public
esteem, monsieur. We will unmask Coralth, and we will crush Valorsay
if we find that he is really the instigator of the infamous plot that
ruined you."

"What, monsieur! Can you doubt it after your conversation with him?"

The baron shook his head. "I've no doubt but what Valorsay is ruined
financially," said he. "I am certain that my hundred thousand francs
will be lost forever if I lend them to him. I would be willing to swear
that he bet against his own horse and prevented the animal from winning,
as he is accused of doing."

"You must see, then--"

"Excuse me--all this does NOT explain the great discrepancy between your
allegations and his story. You assure me that he cares nothing whatever
for Mademoiselle Marguerite; he pretends that he adores her."

"Yes, monsieur, yes--the scoundrel dared to say so. Ah! if I had not