His mother, who was waiting for him with an anxious
heart, was surprised by the flush on his cheeks, and the light
glittering in his eyes. "Ah, you bring good news," she exclaimed.
His only answer was to hand her the letter which Madame Leon had
given him, saying as he did so, "Read."
Madame Ferailleur's eyes fell upon the words: "Once more, and for
the last time, farewell!" She understood everything, turned very
pale, and in a trembling voice exclaimed: "Don't grieve, my son;
the girl did not love you."
"Oh, mother! if you knew----"
But she checked him with a gesture, and lifting her head proudly,
she said: "I know what it is to love, Pascal--it is to have
perfect faith. If the whole world had accused your father of a
crime, would a single doubt of his innocence have ever entered my
mind? This girl has doubted you. They have told her that you
cheated at cards--and she has believed it. You have failed to see
that this oath at the bedside of the dying count is only an
excuse."
It was true; the thought had not occurred to Pascal. "My God!" he
cried in agony; "are you the only one who believes in my
innocence?"
"Without proofs--yes. It must be your task to obtain these
proofs."
"And I shall obtain them," he rejoined, in a tone of
determination. "I am strong now that I have Marguerite's life to
defend--for they have deceived her, mother, or she would never
have given me up. Oh! don't shake your head.
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