Baron Trigaults Vengeance | Page 5

to stone, and seeing that he

neither spoke nor moved, she continued in a severe tone: "Is this the
way you keep your resolutions and your oaths! You express your
intention of accomplishing a task which requires inexhaustible patience
and dissimulation, and at the very first unforeseen circumstance your
coolness deserts you, and you lose your head completely. If it had not
been for me you would have betrayed yourself in that woman's
presence. You must renounce your revenge, and tamely submit to be
conquered by the Marquis de Valorsay if your face is to be an open
book in which any one may read your secret plans and thoughts."
Pascal shook his head dejectedly. "Didn't you hear, mother?" he
faltered.
"Hear what?"
"What that vile woman said? This young lady whom she spoke of,
whom her husband recognized, can be none other than Marguerite."
"I am sure of it."
He recoiled in horror. "You are sure of it!" he repeated; "and you can
tell me this unmoved--coldly, as if it were a natural, a possible thing.
Didn't you understand the shameful meaning of her insinuations? Didn't
you see her hypocritical smile and the malice gleaming in her eyes?"
He pressed his hands to his burning brow, and groaned "And I did not
crush the infamous wretch! I did not fell her to the ground!"
Ah! if she had obeyed the impulse of her heart. Madame Ferailleur
would have thrown her arms round her son's neck, and have mingled
her tears with his, but reason prevailed. The worthy woman's heart was
pervaded with that lofty sentiment of duty which sustains the humble
heroines of the fireside, and lends them even more courage than the
reckless adventurers whose names are recorded by history could boast
of. She felt that Pascal must not be consoled, but spurred on to fresh
efforts; and so mustering all her courage, she said: "Are you acquainted
with Mademoiselle Marguerite's past life? No. You only know that hers
has been a life of great vicissitudes--and so it is not strange that she
should be slandered."
"In that case, mother," said Pascal, "you were wrong to interrupt
Madame Vantrasson. She would probably have told us many things."
"I interrupted her, it is true, and sent her away--and you know why. But
she is in our service now; and when you are calm, when you have
regained your senses, nothing will prevent you from questioning her. It

may be useful for you to know who this man Vantrasson is, and how
and where he met Mademoiselle Marguerite."
Shame, sorrow, and rage, brought tears to Pascal's eyes. "My God!" he
exclaimed, "to be reduced to the unspeakable misery of hearing my
mother doubt Marguerite!" He did not doubt her. HE could have
listened to the most infamous accusations against her without feeling a
single doubt. However, Madame Ferailleur had sufficient self-control
to shrug her shoulders. "Ah, well! silence this slander," she exclaimed.
"I wish for nothing better; but don't forget that we have ourselves to
rehabilitate. To crush your enemies will be far more profitable to
Mademoiselle Marguerite than vain threats and weak lamentations. It
seemed to me that you had sworn to act, not to complain."
This ironical thrust touched Pascal's sensitive mind to the quick; he
rose at once to his feet, and coldly said, "That's true. I thank you for
having recalled me to myself."
She made no rejoinder, but mentally thanked God. She had read her
son's heart, and perceiving his hesitation and weakness she had
supplied the stimulus he needed. Now she saw him as she wished to see
him. Now he was ready to reproach himself for his lack of courage and
his weakness in displaying his feelings. And as a test of his powers of
endurance, he decided not to question Madame Vantrasson till four or
five days had elapsed. If her suspicions had been aroused, this delay
would suffice to dispel them.
He said but little during breakfast; for he was now eager to commence
the struggle. He longed to act, and yet he scarcely knew how to begin
the campaign. First of all, he must study the enemy's position--gain
some knowledge of the men he had to deal with, find out exactly who
the Marquis de Valorsay and the Viscount de Coralth were. Where
could he obtain information respecting these two men? Should he be
compelled to follow them and to gather up here and there such scraps
of intelligence as came in his way? This method of proceeding would
be slow and inconvenient in the extreme. He was revolving the subject
in his mind when he suddenly remembered the man who, on the
morning that followed the scene at Madame d'Argeles's house, had
come to him in the Rue d'Ulm to give