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She then went out, continuing to laugh so loudly that, though the door of the cabinet was closed, the notary could still hear her. Jacques Ferrand returned to his senses only to curse his imprudence bitterly. Yet, by degrees he reassured himself in thinking that the duchess could not speak of this interview without gravely compromising herself. Nevertheless, it was a bad day for him.
"Oh! at this moment," continued she, "thoughts passed impossible to describe, I remember it confusedly as a dream; it was at once despair, terror, anger, and, above all, I was seized with another alarm; I no longer dreaded that Ferrand would strangle me, but I feared that if my child was found dead at my side I should be accused of having killed it.
She was still waiting for Father Massias, astonished at the inexplicable delay in his arrival, but not yet without hope, as Sister Claire des Anges had not returned. "Pray, Monsieur Ferrand," said she, "tell me if this unfortunate man is in any immediate danger." The young doctor again looked at the sufferer, felt him, and listened to his breathing.
"But I wrote to you," he said; "did n't you get my letter?" A flicker passed across the vagrant's face; he drew the letter from his pocket and held it out. "Here it is, monsieur." Shelton stared at it. "Surely," said he, "I sent a cheque?" Ferrand did not smile; there was a look about him as though Shelton by forgetting to enclose that cheque had done him a real injury.
M. Ferrand is respected by everybody; his reputation is well established; he will crush me; I resign myself, in advance, to my fate. "In brief, Mlle. "But, no, no! to see you in such a place I never can dare. Yet you are so kind, that
"I need not tell you how happy D'Orbigny and myself would be to receive you; but adieu, sir: I fear that the benevolent humorist," pointing to the notary, "will become tired of our talk." "Just the contrary, madame, just the contrary," said Ferrand, in an accent which redoubled the restrained rage of the viscount.
"For you, I should think, original composition couldn't pay worse. The creative faculty's so rare." "I do feel tempted to turn my attention to real heroes," Peter replied. "I'm bound to declare that Sir Dominick Ferrand was never one of mine. Flashy, crafty, second-rate that's how I've always read him. It was never a secret, moreover, that his private life had its weak spots.
This unfortunate girl will relate to you by what a concourse of sinister circumstances, carried away from the asylum where you had placed her, she has been thrown into this prison, where she is appreciated for the purity of her conduct. Permit me also to recall to your highness's mind my two future protegees the unhappy mother and daughter despoiled by the notary Ferrand, Where are they?
This girl had been strongly recommended to him by some respectable people, who would take charge of her as soon as she left the prison. Jacques Ferrand had added, he begged his all-powerful client, in the name of morality, of religion, and of the future rehabilitation of this unfortunate, to solicit her discharge.
M. Ferrand sent the porter on an errand; I remained in the house alone with my master; I was working in the ante-chamber; he rang for me. I entered his room; he was standing before the fireplace; I drew near; he turned quickly, and took me by the arm. I was alarmed. I ran into the ante-chamber, and shut the door, holding it with all my strength; the key was on his side." "You understand, sir.
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