"She did not succeed in finding the Marquis de Valorsay," thought
Marguerite, "and being in doubt as to the part she is to play, she
feels furious."
The young girl tried to sum up the impressions of the evening, and
to decide upon a plan of conduct, but she felt sad and very weary.
She said to herself that rest would be more beneficial than
anything else, and that her mind would be clearer on the morrow;
so after a fervent prayer in which Pascal Ferailleur's name was
mentioned several times, she prepared for bed. But before she
fell asleep she was able to collect another bit of evidence. The
sheets on her bed were new.
If Marguerite had been born in the Hotel de Chalusse, if she had
known a father's and a mother's tender care from her infancy, if
she had always been protected by a large fortune from the stern
realities of life, there would have been no hope for her now that
she was left poor and alone--for how can a girl avoid dangers she
is ignorant of? But from her earliest childhood Marguerite had
studied the difficult science of real life under the best of
teachers--misfortune. Cast upon her own resources at the age of
thirteen, she had learned to look upon everybody and everything
with distrust; and by relying only on herself, she had become
strangely cautious and clear-sighted. She knew how to watch and
how to listen, how to deliberate and how to act.
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