The marquis could no longer fail to understand the truth. He
realized who Maumejan really was, and the audacious comedy he had
been duped by. He was so frightfully agitated that five or six
persons sprang forward exclaiming: "What is the matter, marquis?
Are you ill?" But he made no reply. He felt that he was caught
in a trap, and he glanced wildly around him seeking for some
loophole of escape.
However, the word of command had evidently been given. Suddenly
all the guests scattered about the various drawing-rooms poured
into the main hall, and the doors were closed. Then, with a
solemnity of manner which no one had ever seen him display before,
Baron Trigault took the so-called Maumejan by the hand and led him
into the centre of the apartment opposite the lofty chimney-piece.
"Gentlemen," he began, in a commanding tone, "this is M. Pascal
Ferailleur, the honorable man who was falsely accused of cheating
at cards at Madame d'Argeles's house. You owe him a hearing."
Pascal was greatly agitated. The strangeness of the situation,
the certainty of speedy and startling rehabilitation, perhaps the
joy of vengeance, the silence, which was so profound that he could
hear his own panting breath, and the many eyes riveted upon him,
all combined to unnerve him. But only for a moment. He swiftly
conquered his weakness, and surveying his audience with flashing
eyes, he explained, in a clear and ringing voice, the shameful
conspiracy to obtain possession of the count's millions, and the
abominable machinations by which Mademoiselle Marguerite and
himself had been victimized.
Pages:
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472
473
474
475
476