The
guests had not recovered from their stupor, but were still
standing silent and intimidated when they heard the outer door
close after him.
It was a woman who at last broke the spell. "Ah, well!" she
exclaimed, in a tone of intense admiration, "that handsome fellow
is level-headed!"
"He naturally desired to save his plunder!"
It was the same expression that M. de Coralth had employed; and
which had, perhaps, prevented Pascal from yielding to Madame
d'Argeles's entreaties. Everybody applauded the sentiment--
everybody, the baron excepted. This rich man, whose passions had
dragged him into the vilest dens of Europe, was thoroughly
acquainted with sharpers and scoundrels of every type, from those
who ride in their carriages down to the bare-footed vagabond. He
knew the thief who grovels at his victim's feet, humbly confessing
his crime, the desperate knave who swallows the notes he has
stolen, the abject wretch who bares his back to receive the blows
he deserves, and the rascal who boldly confronts his accusers and
protests his innocence with the indignation of an honest man. But
never, in any of these scoundrels, had the baron seen the proud,
steadfast glance with which this man had awed his accusers.
With this thought uppermost in his mind he drew the person who had
seized Pascal's hands at the card-table a little aside. "Tell
me," said he, "did you actually see that young man slip the cards
into the pack?"
"No, not exactly.
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