So well was she convinced of this, that she had given orders to the servant to have a somewhat better dinner than usual; and her heart was beating at the thought of being seated near Marius, between her mother and her brother.

At about six o’clock, the bell rang violently.

“There he is!” said the young girl, rising to her feet.

But no:  it was only the porter, bringing up a summons ordering Mme. Favoral, under penalty of the law, to appear the next day, at one o’clock precisely, before the examining judge, Barban d’Avranchel, at his office in the Palace of Justice.

The poor woman came near fainting.

“What can this judge want with me?  It ought to be forbidden to call a wife to testify against her husband,” she said.

“M. de Tregars will tell you what to answer, mamma,” said Mlle. Gilberte.

Meantime, seven o’clock came, then eight, and still neither Maxence nor M. de Tregars had come.

Both mother and daughter were becoming anxious, when at last, a little before nine, they heard steps in the hall.

Marius de Tregars appeared almost immediately.

He was pale; and his face bore the trace of the crushing fatigues of the day, of the cares which oppressed him, of the reflections which had been suggested to his mind by the quarrel of which he had nearly been the victim a few moments since.

“Maxence is not here?” he asked at once.

“We have not seen him,” answered Mlle. Gilberte.

He seemed so much surprised, that Mme. Favoral was frightened.

“What is the matter again, good God!” she exclaimed.

“Nothing, madame,” said M. de Tregars,—­“nothing that should alarm you.  Compelled, about two hours ago, to part from Maxence, I was to have met him here.  Since he has not come, he must have been detained.  I know where; and I will ask your permission to run and join him.”

He went out; but Mlle. Gilberte followed him in the hall, and, taking his hand,

“How kind of you!” she began, “and how can we ever sufficiently thank you?”

He interrupted her.

“You owe me no thanks, my beloved; for, in what I am doing, there is more selfishness than you think.  It is my own cause, more than yours, that I am defending.  Any way, every thing is going on well.”

And, without giving any more explanations, he started again.  He had no doubt that Maxence, after leaving him, had run to the Hotel des Folies to give to Mlle. Lucienne an account of the day’s work.  And, though somewhat annoyed that he had tarried so long, on second thought, he was not surprised.

It was, therefore, to the Hotel des Folies that he was going.  Now that he had unmasked his batteries and begun the struggle, he was not sorry to meet Mlle. Lucienne.

In less than five minutes he had reached the Boulevard du Temple.  In front of the Fortins’ narrow corridor a dozen idlers were standing, talking.