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Talizac was the hero of all the scandals of Paris; he sought and found his companions in very peculiar regions, and several duels he had fought had made his name, if not celebrated, at least disreputable.
"Come one and all!" cried Iron Jaws, gayly. "Are you going?" asked Arthur. Francine replied with downcast eyes: "Can I leave my brother?" "Then I too will go," Arthur exclaimed, "I too will begin to take life seriously, if you will aid me." After the Vicomte de Talizac was buried, the Marquis disappeared and was no more heard of. Magdalena committed suicide.
Are you not glad to return as master among these men who drove you away, and with you all that there was great and noble in France?" The old man turned his head. "God protect France!" he said, solemnly. A shout of laughter rang through the room. It was the son of Vicomte Jean, who was laughing at his grandfather. Madame de Talizac shrugged her shoulders impatiently.
Both the wife and the children of Jules Fougere had disappeared since that catastrophe, and so the Vicomte of Talizac, now Marquis of Fougereuse, claimed possession of his father's estate.
Lasvène ran to the other side of the hut, and saw two men running away. It was these men who fired. Both were dressed like gipsies, but one was Cyprien, the lacquey of Monsieur de Talizac. "We are lost!" thought Lasvène. Instantly he pulled across the door his old oaken chest, and piled chairs and tables upon it, the bed, everything that was movable in the hut.
"Now you will no longer dare to prevent me from claiming my rights or dispute my legal title." "No," replied Pierre, sorrowfully; "the real Vicomte de Talizac is dead, and from to-day on you are for me the Marquis of Fougereuse." "I do not understand you," said the marquis, confused. "What has the death of my son got to do with my title?"
"If you let me implore hopelessly to-day, Pierre," he whispered, gritting his teeth, "the name of Fougereuse will be eternally dishonored." "The name of Fougereuse?" asked Pierre, with faint malice; "thank God, my lord, that it is not in your power to stain it; you are only the Vicomte de Talizac."
Irene bent over Louison and kissed her pale forehead. This was her answer to Fanfaro's information. Talizac had now recovered his senses. He tore open the door and angrily cried: "Is there no one here who will show this impudent fellow out? Come in, lackeys and servants; lay hands on him!" "I would advise no one to touch me," said Fanfaro, coldly.
Shall we not give this little one a home and a family? I became your wife, your happy, honored companion, and poor Jacques will never know that he owes his life to a base profligate." Simon laid his hand on his wife's head. "Do you know why Simon Fougère wished to make reparation for the crime of the Vicomte de Talizac?" "Because Simon Fougère had a loyal and generous heart!"
She looks at it. "Yes, it is my child." "And you never knew it before?" "No, she called me mamma, but I never called her daughter." "And, mother, your daughter is in danger." "Ah! I knew it, she did not kiss me to-night. Where is she?" "In the power of a scoundrel, of the Vicomte de Talizac." "Talizac!" The sick woman was troubled by the name, but she could not grasp the memories it had aroused.
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