"Did you hear, M.
de Valorsay?" continued the baron. "Now we know, beyond the
possibility of doubt, who Mademoiselle Marguerite's mother is.
What is to be done? What would you do in my place?"
"Ah, monsieur! how can I tell?"
"Wouldn't your first thought be of vengeance! It is mine. But
upon whom can I wreak my vengeance? Upon the Count de Chalusse? He
is dead. Upon my wife? Yes, I might do so; but I lack the
courage--Mademoiselle Marguerite remains."
"But she is innocent, monsieur; she has never wronged you."
The baron did not seem to hear this exclamation. "And to make
Mademoiselle Marguerite's life one long misery," said he, "I need
only favor her marriage with the marquis. Ah, he would make her
cruelly expiate the crime of her birth."
"But you won't do so!" cried Pascal, in a transport, "it would be
shameful; I won't allow it. Never, I swear before high Heaven!
never, while I live, shall Valorsay marry Marguerite. He may
perhaps vanquish me in the coming struggle; he may lead her to the
threshold of the church, but there he will find me--armed--and I
will have justice--human justice in default of legal satisfaction.
And, afterward, the law may take its course!"
The baron looked at him with deep emotion. "Ah, you know what it
is to love!" he exclaimed; and in a hollow voice, he added: "and
thus it was that I loved Marguerite's mother.
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