me extremely pale, and he looked
anxiously around him, as if he feared that some one had overheard me--as
if he had forgotten that we were alone in a carriage which was dashing
onward at full speed!

"I was stupefied and alarmed by the sudden terror which M. de Chalusse
had displayed and could not control. What could it all mean? What
sorrowful recollections, what mysterious apprehensions, had my words
aroused in the count's mind? I could not understand or imagine why he
should regard my question as strange or unnatural. On the contrary, I
thought it perfectly natural, dictated as it had been by circumstances,
and by the count's own words and manner. And, in spite of my confusion
and agitation, the inexplicable voice which we call presentiment
whispered in my heart: 'He has forbidden you to CALL him father, but
he has not said that he is not your father.' However, I had not time to
reflect or to question M. de Chalusse any more, though at that moment I
should have had the courage to do so; afterward I did not dare.

"Our carriage had drawn up outside the railway station, and the next
instant we alighted. Then, for the first time, I learned the magical
power of money, I, a poor girl--reared by public charity--and who for
three years had worked for my daily bread. M. de Chalusse found the
servants, who were to accompany us, awaiting him. They had thought of
everything, and made every possible arrangement for our comfort. I had
scarcely time to glance round me before we were on the platform in front
of a train, which was ready to start. I perceived the very carriage that
had brought us to the station already fastened on a low open truck, and
I was advancing to climb into it, when M. de Chalusse stopped me. 'Not
there,' said he, 'come with me.' I followed him, and he led me to a
magnificent saloon carriage, much higher and roomier than the others,
and emblazoned with the Chalusse coat-of-arms. 'This is our carriage,
dear Marguerite, he said. I got in. The whistle sounded; and the train
started off."

Mademoiselle Marguerite was growing very tired. Big drops of
perspiration stood out on her forehead, she panted for breath, and her
voice began to fail her.

The magistrate was almost frightened. "Pray rest a little,
mademoiselle," he entreated, "there is no hurry."

But she shook her head and replied: "It is better to go on. I should
never have courage to begin again if I paused." And thereupon she
continued: "I had neve