th his heart so full of anguish. He was still somewhat
bewildered with the strange scenes which he had involuntarily witnessed,
the secrets he had overheard, and the revelations which had been made to
him; but a light gleamed on the horizon--a fitful and uncertain light,
it is true, but nevertheless a hopeful gleam. At least, he would no
longer have to struggle alone. An honest and experienced man, powerful
by reason of his reputation, his connections and his fortune, had
promised him his help. Thanks to this man whom misfortune had made a
truer friend than years could have done, he would have access to the
wretch who had deprived him both of his honor and of the woman he loved.
He knew the weak spot in the marquis's armor now; he knew where and how
to strike, and he felt sure that he should succeed in winning Valorsay's
confidence, and in obtaining irrefutable proofs of his villainy.

Pascal was eager to inform his mother of the fortunate result of his
visit, but certain arrangements which were needful for the success of
his plans required his attention, and it was nearly five o'clock when
he reached the Route de la Revolte. Madame Ferailleur was just returning
home when he arrived, which surprised him considerably, for he had not
known that she had intended going out. The cab she had used was still
standing before the door, and she had not had time to take off her
shawl and bonnet when he entered the house. She uttered a joyful cry on
perceiving her son. She was so accustomed to read his secret thoughts on
his face, that it was unnecessary for him to say a word; before he had
even opened his lips, she cried: "So you have succeeded?"

"Yes, mother, beyond my hopes."

"I was not deceived, then, in the worthy man who came to offer us his
assistance?"

"No, certainly not. Do what I may, I can never repay him for his
generosity and self-denial. If you knew, my dear mother, if you only
knew----"

"What?"

He kissed her as if he wished to apologize for what he was about to say,
and then he quickly replied: "Marguerite is the daughter of Baroness
Trigault."

Madame Ferailleur started back, as if she had seen a reptile spring up
in her pathway. "The daughter of the baroness!" she faltered. "Great
Heavens!"

"It is the truth, mother; listen to me." And in a voice that trembled
with emotion, he rapidly related all he had learned by his visit to the
baron, softening the truth as much as he could without concealing it.