"How will you prove your assertion?" cried M. de Valorsay.
"Don't try that dodge on us!" shouted Chupin. "Vantrasson and
mother Leon have confessed everything."
"Who defrauded us all with Domingo?" cried several people; and,
loud above all the others, Kami-Bey bawled out: "To say nothing of
the fact that the sale of your racing stud was a complete
swindle!"
Meanwhile, Pascal's former friends and associates, his brother
advocates and the magistrates who had listened to his first
efforts at the bar, crowded round him, pressing his hands,
embracing him almost to suffocation, censuring themselves for
having suspected him, the very soul of honor, and pleading in
self-justification the degenerate age in which we live--an age in
which we daily see those whom we had considered immaculate
suddenly yield to temptation. And a murmur of respectful
admiration rose from the throng when the excitement had subsided a
little, and the guests had an opportunity to observe Mademoiselle
Marguerite, whose eyes sparkled more brightly than ever through
her happy tears; and whose beauty acquired an almost sublime
expression from her deep emotion.
The wretched Valorsay felt that all was over--that he was
irretrievably lost. Seized by a blind fury like that which impels
a hunted animal to turn and face the hounds that pursue him, and
bid them defiance, he confronted the throng with his face
distorted with passion, his eyes bloodshot, and foam upon his
lips; he was absolutely frightful in his cynicism, hatred, and
scorn.
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