Trigault's, I should have found myself face to face with
that miserable viscount, and then all would have been lost. But now I'm
safe!"

It was with this encouraging thought that he approached the house.

"The marquis is very busy this morning," said the servant to whom Pascal
addressed himself at the gate. "I doubt if he can see you." But when
Pascal handed him one of his visiting cards, bearing the name of
Maumejan, with this addition in pencil: "Who calls as the representative
of Baron Trigault," the valet's face changed as if by enchantment.
"Oh!" said he, "that's quite a different matter. If you come from Baron
Trigault, you will be received with all the respect due to the Messiah.
Come in. I will announce you myself."

Everything in M. de Valorsay's house, as at the baron's residence,
indicated great wealth, and yet a close observer would have detected a
difference. The luxury of the Rue de la Ville-l'Eveque was of a real and
substantial character, which one did not find in the Avenue des Champs
Elysees. Everything in the marquis's abode bore marks of the haste which
mars the merest trifle produced at the present age. "Take a seat here,
and I will see where the marquis is," said the servant, as he ushered
Pascal into a large drawing-room. The apartment was elegantly furnished,
but had somewhat lost its freshness; the carpet, which had once been a
marvel of beauty, was stained in several places, and as the servants had
not always been careful to keep the shutters closed, the sunlight had
perceptibly faded the curtains. The attention of visitors was at once
attracted by the number of gold and silver cups, vases, and statuettes
scattered about on side-tables and cheffoniers. Each of these objects
bore an inscription, setting forth that it had been won at such a race,
in such a year, by such a horse, belonging to the Marquis de Valorsay.
These were indeed the marquis's chief claims to glory, and had cost him
at least half of the immense fortune he had inherited. However, Pascal
did not take much interest in these trophies, so the time of waiting
seemed long. "Valorsay is playing the diplomat," he thought. "He doesn't
wish to appear to be anxious. Unfortunately, his servant has betrayed
him."

At last the valet returned. "The marquis will see you now, monsieur,"
said he.

This summons affected Pascal's heart like the first roll of a drum
beating the charge. But his coolness did not desert him. "Now is the
decisi