You assure me that he
cares nothing whatever for Mademoiselle Marguerite; he pretends
that he adores her."
"Yes, monsieur, yes--the scoundrel dared to say so. Ah! if I had
not been deterred by a fear of losing my revenge!"
"I understand; but allow me to conclude. According to you,
Mademoiselle Marguerite possesses several millions. According to
him, she hasn't a penny of her own. Which is right? I believe he
is. His desire to borrow a hundred thousand francs of me proves
it; and, besides, he wouldn't have come this morning to tell me a
falsehood, which would be discovered to-morrow. Still, if he is
telling the truth, it is impossible to explain the foul conspiracy
you have suffered by."
This objection had previously presented itself to Pascal's mind,
and he had found an explanation which seemed to him a plausible
one. "M. de Chalusse was not dead," said he, "when M. de Coralth
and M. de Valorsay decided on this plan of ridding themselves of
me. Consequently, Mademoiselle Marguerite was still an heiress."
"That's true; but the very day after the commission of the crime,
the accomplices must have discovered that it could do them no
good; so, why have they still persisted in their scheme?"
Pascal tried to find a satisfactory answer, but failed.
"There must be some iniquitous mystery in this affair, which
neither you nor I suspect," remarked the baron.
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