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He reflected for a moment and then said: "We'll take your maiden name, mother. It will bring us good luck. Our new lodgings shall be hired in the name of the Widow Maumejan." They talked for some time longer, anxious to take every precaution that prudence could suggest. And when they were convinced that they had forgotten nothing, Madame Ferailleur suggested that Pascal should start off.
Did not his whole future depend upon the revelations Madame Ferailleur was about to make? "So this was your object in going out, mother?" he faltered. "Yes." "And you went without warning me?" "Was it necessary? What! you love a young girl, you swear in my presence that she shall be your wife, and you think it strange that I should try to ascertain whether she is worthy of you or not?
Madame Ferailleur approved of this plan, deeming herself fortunate in this great calamity that despair had not destroyed her son's energy and resources of mind. "Shall we retain our name, Pascal?" "Oh, no. That would be an unpardonable imprudence." "What name shall we take, then? I must know, for they may ask me at the station."
It seemed to him that his own destiny was being decided in this man's mind, that his whole future depended upon the determination he arrived at. A prisoner awaiting the verdict of the jury could not have suffered more intense anxiety. At last, when a minute, which seemed a century, had elapsed, the baron paused. "Now as before, M. Ferailleur," he said, roughly, "I'm for you and with you.
And a poignant regret came to her heart when she remembered her own mother, Baroness Trigault, and compared her with this matchless woman. Meanwhile the cab had passed the outer boulevards, and was now whirling along the Route d'Asnieres, as fast as the horse could drag it. "We are almost there," remarked Madame Ferailleur, speaking for the first time.
"Gentlemen," he began, in a commanding tone, "this is M. Pascal Ferailleur, the honorable man who was falsely accused of cheating at cards at Madame d'Argeles's house. You owe him a hearing." Pascal was greatly agitated.
Clients became so numerous that Pascal found it necessary to draw nearer the business centre, and his rent was consequently doubled; but the income he derived from his profession increased so rapidly that he soon had twelve thousand francs safely invested as a resource against any emergency. Madame Ferailleur now laid aside the mourning she had worn since her husband's death.
And yet, from her own story, I should be willing to swear that she had abused the poor child, and had made a slave of her." Tears glittered in Pascal's eyes, but he breathed freely once more. "As for Vantrasson," resumed Madame Ferailleur, "it is certain that he took a violent fancy to his sister's apprentice.
His mother's noble words found an echo in his own heart, and he now looked upon suicide as an act of madness and cowardice. Madame Ferailleur felt that the victory was assured, but this did not suffice; she wished to enlist Pascal in her plans. "It is evident," she resumed, "that M. de Coralth is the author of this abominable plot. But what could have been his object?
"Then I shall want thirty francs a month," replied Madame Vantrasson, promptly. Pascal and his mother exchanged glances. They were both unfavorably impressed by this woman, and were equally determined to rid themselves of her, which it was easy enough to do. "Too dear!" said Madame Ferailleur; "I have never given over fifteen francs."
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