Full of this idea, he hastily changed his clothes, and hurried
from his room. His mother was watching for him--inclined to laugh
at him a little; but a single glance warned her that her son was
in terrible trouble, and that some dire misfortune had certainly
befallen him. "Pascal, in heaven's name, what has happened?" she
cried.
"A slight difficulty--a mere trifle," he replied.
"Where are you going?"
"To the Palais de Justice." And such was really the case, for he
hoped to meet his most intimate friend there.
Contrary to his usual custom, he took the little staircase on the
right, leading to the grand vestibule, where several lawyers were
assembled, earnestly engaged in conversation. They were evidently
astonished to see Pascal, and their conversation abruptly ceased
on his approach. They assumed a grave look and turned away their
heads in disgust. The unfortunate man at once realized the truth,
and pressed his hand to his forehead, with a despairing gesture,
as he murmured: "Already!--already!"
However, he passed on, and not seeing his friend, he hurried to
the little conference hall, where he found five of his fellow-
advocates. On Pascal's entrance, two of them at once left the
hall, while two of the others pretended to be very busily engaged
in examining a brief which lay open on the table. The fifth, who
did not move, was not the friend Pascal sought, but an old college
comrade named Dartelle.
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