de R----, and it
was rumored that these gentlemen would cross swords at daybreak
this morning.
"LATER INTELLIGENCE.--We learn at the moment of going to press
that an encounter has just taken place between M. de R---- and M.
de C----. M. de R---- received a slight wound in the side, but
his condition is sufficiently satisfactory not to alarm his
friends."
The paper slipped from Pascal's hand. His features were almost
unrecognizable in his passion and despair. "It is an infamous
lie!" he said, hoarsely. "I am innocent; I swear it upon my
honor!" Dartelle averted his face, but not quickly enough to
prevent Pascal from noticing the look of withering scorn in his
eyes. Then, feeling that he was condemned, that his sentence was
irrevocable, and that there was no longer any hope: "I know the
only thing that remains for me to do!" he murmured.
Dartelle turned, his eyes glistening with tears. He seized
Pascal's hands and pressed them with sorrowful tenderness, as if
taking leave of a friend who is about to die. "Courage!" he
whispered.
Pascal fled like a madman. "Yes," he repeated, as he rushed along
the Boulevard Saint-Michel, "that is the only thing left me to
do."
When he reached home he entered his office, double-locked the
door, and wrote two letters--one to his mother, the other to the
president of the order of Advocates. After a moment's thought he
began a third, but tore it into pieces before he had completed it.
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