She was oppressed by vague
apprehensions, and looked closely at every one who passed her;
fearing the presence of spies, and knowing full well that the most
profound secrecy could alone insure the success of Pascal's plans.
However, she did not see a single suspicious looking person. Some
Englishmen--those strange travellers, who are at the same time so
foolishly prodigal and so ridiculously miserly--were making a
great hue and cry over the four sous gratuity claimed by a poor
commissionaire; but these were the only persons in sight.
Partially reassured, Madame Ferailleur hastily ascended the
staircase, and entered the large waiting-room. It was here that
Pascal had promised to meet her; but, though she looked round on
all sides, she did not perceive him. Still, this delay did not
alarm her much; nor was it at all strange, since Pascal had
scarcely known what he would have to do when he left the house.
She seated herself on a bench, as far back in the shade as
possible and gazed sadly at the ever-changing throng, when all of
a sudden she was startled by a man, who abruptly paused in front
of her. This man proved to be Pascal. But his hair had been
closely cut, and he had shaved off his beard. And thus shorn,
with his smooth face, and with a brown silk neckerchief in lieu of
the white muslin tie he usually wore, he was so greatly changed
that for an instant his own mother did not recognize him.
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