"I have never met any person named Maumejan," said the baron.
"Ah! monsieur, that's not my name. Have you forgotten the
innocent man who was caught in that infamous snare set for him by
the Viscount de Coralth?"
"Yes, yes," replied the baron, "I remember you now." And then
recollecting the terrible scene that had just taken place in the
adjoining room: "How long have you been here?" he asked.
Should Pascal tell a falsehood, or confess the truth? He
hesitated, but his hesitation lasted scarcely the tenth part of a
second. "I have been here about half an hour," he replied.
The baron's livid cheeks suddenly became purple, his eyes
glittered, and it seemed by his threatening gesture as if he were
strongly tempted to murder this man, who had discovered the
terrible, disgraceful secrets of his domestic life. But it was a
mere flash of energy. The terrible ordeal which he had just
passed through had exhausted him mentally and physically, and it
was in a faltering voice that he resumed: "Then you have not lost
a word--a word of what was said in the other room?"
"Not a word."
The baron sank on to the divan. "So the knowledge of my disgrace
is no longer confined to myself!" he exclaimed. "A stranger's eye
has penetrated the depths of misery I have fallen into! The secret
of my wretchedness and shame is mine no longer!"
"Oh, monsieur, monsieur!" interrupted Pascal.
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