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The poor woman could not speak of the suspicions which had darkened the whole life of the Marquis de Boiscoran, nor of the cruel penalty which the wife was now called upon to pay for a slight imprudence. "If it is absolutely necessary," she said with a half-stifled voice, "if that is our very last hope, then I will go and see M. de Margeril myself."
Come, let us go back to your past. Remember the time when Jacques was born, and tell me what year it was when M. de Margeril refused to meet me." Indignation restored to the marchioness her strength. She cried, "And you come and tell me this to-day, after thirty years, and God knows under what circumstances!" "Yes, after thirty years.
A man in close confinement may be made to say any thing." "We must do something," said the mother, nearly mad with grief. "Yes, and without losing a minute. We have friends: let us see who among them can help us." "I might write to M. Margeril." The marquis, who had turned quite pale, became livid. "What!" he cried. "You dare utter that name in my presence?"
This is what Grandpapa Chandore would not admit. "Still," he said, "if we could bring influential men to help us?" "Can you?" "Certainly. Boiscoran has old friends, who, no doubt, are all-powerful still under the present government. He was, in former years, very intimate with M. de Margeril." M. Folgat's expression was very encouraging. "Ah!" he said, "if M. de Margeril could give us a lift!
But he is not easily approached." "We might send Boiscoran to see him, at least. Since he remained in Paris for the purpose of assisting us there, now he will have an opportunity. I will write to him to-night." Since the name of Margeril had been mentioned, the marchioness had become, if possible, paler than ever. At the old gentleman's last words she rose, and said anxiously,
"Do not write, sir: it would be useless. I do not wish it." Her embarrassment was so evident, that the others were quite surprised. "Have Boiscoran and M. de Margeril had any difficulty?" asked M. de Chandore. "Yes." "But," cried Dionysia, "it is a matter of life and death for Jacques." Alas!
In less than one minute the most contradictory resolutions seemed to flit across the marquis's face. He hesitated, and at last he said, "Whatever can be done to make up for my inaction, I will do. I will go to Sauveterre. Jacques must be saved. M. de Margeril is all-powerful. Go to him. I permit it. I beg you will do it."
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