The General had risen from his chair, and was striding up and down
the room with every token of intense agitation. "It's true," he
said apparently unconscious of his words. "She's ruined--lost--
the misfortune is complete!" Then, suddenly pausing with folded
arms in front of Mademoiselle Marguerite: "What are you going to
do?" he asked.
"God will not forsake me, General," she replied.
He turned on his heel and resumed his promenade, wildly
gesticulating and indulging in a furious monologue which was
certainly not very easy to follow. "Frightful! terrible!" he
growled. "The daughter of an old comrade--zounds!--of a friend of
thirty years' standing--to be left in such a plight! Never, a
thousand thunderclaps!--never! Poor child!--a heart of gold, and
as pretty as an angel! This horrible Paris would devour her at a
single mouthful! It would be a crime--an abomination! It sha'n't
be!--the old veterans are here, firm as rocks!"
Thereupon, approaching the poor girl again, he exclaimed in a
coarse but seemingly feeling voice: "Mademoiselle Marguerite."
"General?"
"You are acquainted with my son, Gustave Fondege, are you not?"
"I think I have heard you speak of him to M. de Chalusse several
times."
The General tugged furiously at his mustaches as was his wont
whenever he was perplexed or embarrassed. "My son," he resumed,
"is twenty-seven. He's now a lieutenant of hussars, and will soon
be promoted to the rank of captain.
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