"Who has hired you to follow me! What do you want of me?"
"Not so fast, m'sieur! Don't be so rough! You hurt me. I'm sent
by Mademoiselle Marguerite!"
XVIII.
"O God! send Pascal to my aid," prayed Mademoiselle Marguerite, as
she left M. Fortunat's house. Now she understood the intrigue she
had been the victim of; but, instead of reassuring her the agent
had frightened her, by revealing the Marquis de Valorsay's
desperate plight. She realized what frenzied rage must fill this
man's heart as he felt himself gradually slipping from the heights
of opulence, down into the depths of poverty and crime. What
might he not dare, in order to preserve even the semblance of
grandeur for a year, or a month, or a day longer! Had they
measured the extent of his villainy? Would he even hesitate at
murder? And the poor girl asked herself with a shudder if Pascal
were still living; and a vision of his bleeding corpse, lying
lifeless in some deserted street, rose before her. And who could
tell what dangers threatened her personally? For, though she knew
the past, she could not read the future. What did M. de
Valorsay's letter mean? and what was the fate that he held in
reserve for her, and that made him so sanguine of success? The
impression produced upon her mind was so terrible that for a
moment she thought of hastening to the old justice of the peace to
ask for his protection and a refuge.
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