He released
Madame Leon, and his manner suddenly became as humble as it had
been threatening. "Excuse me," he said, entreatingly. "I am
suffering so much that I don't know what I'm doing. I beseech you
to take me to Mademoiselle Marguerite, or else run and beg her to
come here. I ask but a moment."
Madame Leon pretended to be listening attentively; but, in
reality, she was quietly manoeuvring to gain the garden gate.
Soon she succeeded in doing so, whereupon, with marvellous
strength and agility, she pushed Pascal away, and sprang inside
the garden, closing the gate after her, and saying as she did so,
"Begone, you scoundrel!"
This was the final blow; and for more than a minute Pascal stood
motionless in front of the gate, stupefied with mingled rage and
sorrow. His condition was not unlike that of a man who, after
falling to the bottom of a precipice, is dragging himself up, all
mangled and bleeding, swearing that he will yet save himself, when
suddenly a heavy stone which he had loosened in his descent, falls
forward and crushes him. All that he had so far endured was
nothing in comparison with the thought that Valorsay would wed
Marguerite. Was such a thing possible? Would God permit such a
monstrous iniquity?" No, that shall never be," he muttered. "I
will murder the scoundrel rather; and afterward justice may do
whatever it likes with me."
He experienced that implacable, merciless thirsting for vengeance
which does not even recoil before the commission of a crime to
secure satisfaction, and this longing inflamed him with such
energy that, although he had been so utterly exhausted a few
moments before--he was not half an hour in making his way back to
his new home.
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