Marguerite asked herself whether the old magistrate would have it
in his power to help her in this respect. Perhaps not, and then
what could she do? She asked herself if she had not been too
cruel, too severe. Guilty or not, the baroness was still her
mother. Had she the right to be pitiless, when by stretching out
her hand she might, perhaps, have rescued the wretched woman from
her terrible life.
Thus thinking, the young girl sat alone and forgotten in her
little room. The hours went by, and daylight had begun to wane,
when suddenly a shrill whistle resounded in the street, under her
windows. "Pi-ouit." It came upon her like an electric shock, and
with a bound she sprang to her feet. For this cry was the signal
that had been agreed upon between herself and the young man who
had so abruptly offered to help her on the occasion of her visit
to M. Fortunat's office. Was she mistaken? No--for on listening
she heard the cry resound a second time, even more shrill and
prolonged than before.
This was no time for hesitation, and so she went down-stairs at
once. Hope sent new blood coursing through her veins and endowed
her with invincible energy. On reaching the street-door, she
paused and looked around her. At a short distance off she
perceived a young fellow clad in a blouse, who was apparently
engaged in examining the goods displayed in a shop window.
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