"So you are persuaded that it is
personal vengeance that I am pursuing?" said he. "You think that
fear of ridicule and public odium prevents me from striking M. de
Coralth in my own name, and that I am endeavoring to find some
other excuse to crush him. This might have been so once; but it
is not the case now. When I promised M. Ferailleur to do all in
my power to save the young girl he loves, Mademoiselle Marguerite,
my wife's daughter, I renounced all thought of self, all my former
plans. And why should you doubt Coralth's treachery? You,
yourself, promised me to unmask HIM. If he has betrayed YOU, my
poor Lia, he has only been a little in advance of you."
She hung her head and made no reply. She had forgotten this.
"Besides," continued the baron, "you ought to know that when I
make such a statement I have some better foundation for it than
mere conjecture. It was to some purpose that I watched M. de
Coralth during your absence. When the servant handed you that
card he turned extremely pale. Why? Because he knew whose card it
was. After you left the room his hands trembled like leaves, and
his mind was no longer occupied with the game. He--who is usually
such a cautious player--risked his money recklessly. When the
cards came to him he did still worse; and though luck favored him,
he made the strangest blunders, and lost.
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