I was horrified and gave him what he asked. But that
same evening I learned that the husband and wife, my daughter and
my son-in-law, had concocted this vile conspiracy together. Yes,
I have positive proofs of it. Leaving here, and not wishing to
return home that day, he telegraphed the good news to his wife.
But in his delight he made a mistake in the address, and the
telegram was brought here. I opened it, and read: 'Papa has
fallen into the trap, my darling. I beat my drum, and he
surrendered at once.' Yes, that is what he dared to write, and
sign with his own name, and then send to his wife--my daughter!"
Pascal was absolutely terrified. He wondered if he were not the
victim of some absurd nightmare--if his senses were not playing
him false. He had little conception of the terrible dramas which
are constantly enacted in these superb mansions, so admired and
envied by the passing crowd. He thought that the baroness would
be crushed--that she would fall on her knees before her husband.
What a mistake! The tone of her voice told him that, instead of
yielding, she was only bent on retaliation.
"Does your son-in-law do anything worse than you?" she exclaimed.
"How dare you censure him--you who drag your name through all the
gambling dens of Europe?"
"Wretch!" interrupted the baron, "wretch!" But quickly mastering
himself, he remarked: "Yes, it's true that I gamble.
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