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Updated: June 25, 2025
Pascal nodded affirmatively. "M. de Valorsay wishes you to consider yourself as irretrievably lost, and then he intends to offer to save you on condition that you consent to marry him. I should say, however, that M. Wilkie is ignorant of the atrocious projects he is abetting. They are known only to the marquis and M. de Coralth; and it is I who, under the name of Maumejan, act as their adviser.
First came Mademoiselle Marguerite, leaning on the arm of the white-haired magistrate, and then Madame Ferailleur; next M. Isidore Fortunat, and finally Chupin Victor Chupin, resplendent in a handsome, bran-new, black dress-suit. The marquis could no longer fail to understand the truth. He realized who Maumejan really was, and the audacious comedy he had been duped by.
M. Maumejan seemed perfectly satisfied with this explanation; and in the indifferent tone of a man who is delivering a message, the meaning of which he scarcely understood, he said: "A person who knows that your wife is in my employ requested me to ask you if you would be ready to attend to that little matter she spoke of." "Certainly. I was preparing for it a moment ago." Chupin heard no more.
This morning I might have doubted, but now, thanks to that vain idiot who goes by the name of Wilkie, I am sure, perfectly, mathematically sure of success. Maumejan, who is entirely devoted to me, and who is the greediest, most avaricious scoundrel alive, will draw up such a complaint that Marguerite will sleep in prison. Moreover, other witnesses will be summoned.
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.
M. de Valorsay was seated in the apartment he usually occupied when he remained at home a little smoking-room connected with his bedroom. He was to all intents busily engaged in examining some sporting journals. A bottle of Madeira and a partially filled glass stood near him. As the servant announced "Monsieur Maumejan!" he looked up and his eyes met Pascal's.
The noise restored him to consciousness of his position. "It is the baron!" he thought; "he is coming this way! If he finds me here I am lost; he will never consent to help me. A man would never forgive another man for hearing what I have just heard." Why should he not try to make his escape? The card, bearing the name of Maumejan, would be no proof of his visit.
Here sat the baron, surrounded by several clerks, who were busily engaged in putting a pile of papers and documents in order. But as soon as Pascal entered, the baron rose, and cordially holding out his hand, exclaimed, "Ah! here you are at last, Monsieur Maumejan!" So he had not forgotten the name which Pascal had assumed. This was a favorable omen. "I called, monsieur " began the young man.
Write: 'Maumejan, Route de la Revolte. Tell him that I sent you, and he will treat you with the same consideration as he would show to me. He lives a long way off, but my brougham is standing in the courtyard; so take it, and when your consultation is over, come back and dine with me." "Ah! you are too kind!" exclaimed M. Wilkie. "You overpower me, my dear marquis, you do, upon my word!
He became livid, his eyes seemed to start from their sockets, and it was with difficulty that he ejaculated: "He!" "Who?" inquired the astonished marquis. "Look!" M. de Valorsay did so, and to his utter amazement he perceived a numerous party in the rear of the man announced under the name of Maumejan.
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