Maurice could not remember having read one.
"Burn all," said he.
"Here are to-day's letters, Citizen," said the official.
He presented a packet of letters to Maurice, and threw the others in the fire. Maurice took the letters, felt the impression of a seal, and fancied that he recognized the perfume of a friend, and looking over his correspondence he found a sealed envelope and hand-writing that made him tremble. This man, who bravely faced danger, trembled before the odor of a letter. The official approached him to inquire what was the matter, but Maurice signified a wish to be alone.
He turned and returned this letter; he felt a presentiment it contained misery for him, and started and trembled before unknown misfortune.
Having collected all his courage he at length opened it, and read as follows:—
Citizen Maurice,—It has become necessary that we should burst these bonds—bonds which, on your side, affect to exceed the bounds of friendship. You are a man of honor, Citizen, and now that a night has passed since the occurrences of yesterday evening, you ought to comprehend that your presence at our house is no longer desirable. I leave it to you to excuse yourself in any way you think best to my husband. On the arrival this day of any letter from you to Monsieur Dixmer I shall be convinced that I have to regret the loss of a friend who has unfortunately been most imprudent, and whom all social propriety will deter me from meeting for the future. Adieu forever.
Geneviève.
P.S. The bearer awaits your reply.
Maurice called; the valet-de-chambre reappeared.
"Who brought this letter?"