Ah! if she had obeyed the impulse of her heart. Madame Ferailleur
would have thrown her arms round her son's neck, and have mingled
her tears with his, but reason prevailed. The worthy woman's
heart was pervaded with that lofty sentiment of duty which
sustains the humble heroines of the fireside, and lends them even
more courage than the reckless adventurers whose names are
recorded by history could boast of. She felt that Pascal must not
be consoled, but spurred on to fresh efforts; and so mustering all
her courage, she said: "Are you acquainted with Mademoiselle
Marguerite's past life? No. You only know that hers has been a
life of great vicissitudes--and so it is not strange that she
should be slandered."

"In that case, mother," said Pascal, "you were wrong to interrupt
Madame Vantrasson. She would probably have told us many things."

"I interrupted her, it is true, and sent her away--and you know
why. But she is in our service now; and when you are calm, when
you have regained your senses, nothing will prevent you from
questioning her. It may be useful for you to know who this man
Vantrasson is, and how and where he met Mademoiselle Marguerite."

Shame, sorrow, and rage, brought tears to Pascal's eyes. "My
God!" he exclaimed, "to be reduced to the unspeakable misery of
hearing my mother doubt Marguerite!" He did not doubt her. HE
could have listened to the most infamous accusations against her
without feeling a single doubt. However, Madame Ferailleur had
sufficient self-control to shrug her shoulders. "Ah, well!
silence this slander," she exclaimed. "I wish for nothing better;
but don't forget that we have ourselves to rehabilitate. To crush