“What! monsieur, don’t you recognize me?” rejoined Pascal, who in his agitation forgot that the baron had seen him only twice before. He forgot the absence of his beard, his almost ragged clothing, and all the precautions he had taken to render recognition impossible. “I have never met any person named Maumejan,” said the baron. “Ah! monsieur, that’s not my name. Have you forgotten the innocent man who was caught in that infamous snare set for him by the Viscount de Coralth?” “Yes, yes,” replied the baron, “I remember you now.” And then recollecting the terrible scene that had just taken place in the adjoining room: “How long have you been here?” he asked. Should Pascal tell a falsehood, or confess the truth? He hesitated, but his hesitation lasted scarcely the tenth part of a second. “I have been here about half an hour,” he replied. The baron’s livid cheeks suddenly became purple, his eyes glittered, and it seemed by his threatening gesture as if he were strongly tempted to murder this man, who had discovered the terrible, disgraceful secrets of his domestic life. But it was a mere flash of energy. The terrible ordeal which he had just passed through had exhausted him mentally and physically, and it was in a faltering voice that he resumed: “Then you have not lost a word--a word of what was said in the other room?” “Not a word.” The baron sank on to the divan. “So the knowledge of my disgrace is no longer confined to myself!” he exclaimed. “A stranger’s eye has penetrated the depths of misery I have fallen into! The secret of my wretchedness and shame is mine no longer!” “Oh, monsieur, monsieur!” interrupted Pascal. “Before I recross the threshold of your home, all shall have been forgotten. I swear it by all that is most sacred!”