I'll find her
for you--see if I don't"
The sudden stopping of the vehicle which had reached the Place de
la Bourse, cut his words short. M. Fortunat ordered him to pay
the driver, while he himself rushed upstairs, eager to arrange his
plan of campaign--to use his own expression. In his absence a
commissionaire had brought a letter for him which Madame Dodelin
now produced. He broke the seal, and read to his intense
surprise: "Monsieur--I am the ward of the late Count de Chalusse.
I must speak to you. Will you grant me an interview on Wednesday
next, at a quarter-past three o'clock? Yours respectfully,
"MARGUERITE."
XX.
When Mademoiselle Marguerite left the dead count's bedside at ten
o'clock at night to repair to Pascal Ferailleur's house, she did
not yet despair of the future. Father, friend, rank, security,
fortune--she had lost all these in a single moment--but she could
still see a promise of happiness in the distance.
She suffered undoubtedly, and yet she experienced a sort of bitter
pleasure at the thought of uniting her life to the man who was as
unfortunate as herself, who was slandered as she herself had been
slandered, branded with the most cruel and unjust imputations, and
had neither fortune nor friends. Others might scorn them; but
what did they care for the world's disdain so long as they had the
approval of their consciences? Would not their mutual esteem
suffice since they loved each other? It seemed to Marguerite that
their very misfortunes would bind them more closely to each other,
and cement the bonds of their love more strongly.
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