"
"Have you the night-key?"
"Yes."
"Very well, then; I will not wait for you. When you come in you
will find your candle and some matches on the buffet in the ante-
room. And wrap yourself up well, for it is very cold." Then
raising her forehead to her son's lips, she gayly added: "A
pleasant evening to you, my boy!"
Faithful to her promise, Madame Ferailleur retired at the usual
hour; but she could not sleep. She certainly had no cause for
anxiety, and yet the thought that her son was not at home filled
her heart with vague misgivings such as she had never previously
felt under similar circumstances. Possibly it was because she did
not know where Pascal was going. Possibly M. de Coralth was the
cause of her strange disquietude, for she utterly disliked the
viscount. Her woman's instinct warned her that there was
something unwholesome about this young man's peculiar
handsomeness, and that it was not safe to trust to his professions
of friendship. At all events, she lay awake and heard the clock
of the neighboring Normal School strike each successive hour--two,
three, and four. "How late Pascal stays," she said to herself.
And suddenly a fear more poignant even than her presentiments
darted through her mind. She sprang out of bed and rushed to the
window. She fancied she had heard a terrible cry of distress in
the deserted street. At that very moment, the insulting word
"thief" was being hurled in her son's face.
Pages:
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145