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Thus one day when Madame Ferailleur presented herself as usual to make her quarterly payment, the steward replied: "You owe us nothing, madame; everything has been paid by your son." She almost fainted; after bearing adversity so bravely, this happiness proved too much for her. She could scarcely believe it.
However, these doleful complaints, far from rendering Madame Vantrasson interesting, imparted a deceitful and most disagreeable expression to her countenance. "I told you that I could only give fifteen francs," interrupted Madame Ferailleur "take it or leave it." Madame Vantrasson protested. She expressed her willingness to deduct five francs from the sum she had named, but more it was impossible!
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. "Well?" asked Madame Ferailleur, as she realized his identity. "I have succeeded. We have secured such rooms as I wished for." "Where?"
"Now you will explain," said she. "It was you who brought M. Pascal Ferailleur here." "Alas! I know only too well that I ought to beg your forgiveness. However, this affair will cost me dear myself. It has already embroiled me in a difficulty with that fool of a Rochecote, with whom I shall have to fight in less than a couple of hours." "Where did you make his acquaintance?" "Whose Rochecote's?"
The magistrate listened with his eyes fixed on his ring "This is very serious, very serious," he said at last. "Perhaps you are right. Perhaps M. Ferailleur is innocent. And yet, why should he abscond? why should he leave the country?" "Ah! monsieur, Pascal's flight is only feigned. He is in Paris concealed somewhere I'm sure of it; and I know a man who will find him for me.
"I shall start out at once," said Pascal, "and before two hours have elapsed I shall have found a modest lodging, where we must conceal ourselves for the present. I know a locality that will suit us, and where no one will certainly ever think of looking for us." "And I," asked Madame Ferailleur, "what shall I do in the meantime?"
It was reported in the Rue d'Ulm that Pascal had spent every night at the gaming table for more than five years; and that, being an incomparable trickster, he had stolen millions. Meanwhile, Madame Ferailleur was approaching the station.
He had fancied that Madame Ferailleur had merely announced her intention of driving to the Havre railway station so as to set possible spies on the wrong track, and he would have willingly wagered anything, that after going a short distance she had given the cabman different instructions. Not so, however, he had taken her straight to the station. Was Mademoiselle Marguerite deceived then?
He knew only too well that his mother was right, and yet it wounded him cruelly to hear her speak in this style. For the baroness was Marguerite's mother after all. "So," continued Madame Ferailleur, with increasing indignation, "creatures do exist who are destitute even of the maternal instincts of animals.
His mind was occupied with these thoughts when his door suddenly opened, and he sprang up, exclaiming: "Who is it?" It was Madame Vantrasson, who came to announce that dinner was ready a dinner which she had herself prepared, for on going out Madame Ferailleur had left her in charge of the household.
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