He had written
d'Argeles, Pascal Ferailleur, Ferdinand de Coralth, Rochecote.
And yet, in spite of these precautions, the girl did not at first
seize the full meaning of the article; and she was obliged to read
it over again. But when she finally understood it--when the
horrible truth burst upon her--the paper fell from her nerveless
hands, she turned as pale as death, and, gasping for breath,
leaned heavily against the wall for support.
Her features expressed such terrible suffering that the magistrate
sprang from his chair with a bound. "What has happened?" he
eagerly asked.
She tried to reply, but finding herself unable to do so, she
pointed to the paper lying upon the floor, and gasped: "There!
there!"
The magistrate understood everything at the first glance; and this
man, who had witnessed so much misery--who had been the confidant
of so many martyrs--was filled with consternation at thought of
the misfortunes which destiny was heaping upon this defenceless
girl. He approached her, and led her gently to an arm-chair, upon
which she sank, half fainting. "Poor child!" he murmured. "The
man you had chosen--the man whom you would have sacrificed
everything for--is Pascal Ferailleur, is he not?"
"Yes, it is he."
"He is an advocate?"
"As I have already told you, monsieur."
"Does he live in the Rue d'Ulm?"
"Yes."
The magistrate shook his head sadly. "It is the same," said he.
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