"And you do rightly, my mother," added the count. "We will never acknowledge her, never see her again! Maurice and Bertha, we expect that you will abide by our determination."
Maurice did not reply; he stood leaning against the mantel-piece, lost in thought, his eyes bent down, his head resting upon his hands.
Bertha, however, answered with spirit. "I make no promise of the kind. Nothing could induce me to cast off my dear Madeleine!"
M. de Bois seized her hand, and, involuntarily carrying it to his lips, said, with mingled enthusiasm and veneration, "You are as noble as I thought you were! I knew you would not forsake her!"
Bertha raised her eyes to his face with an expression which thrilled him, as she answered, "You will defend her, M. de Bois; you, who can perhaps disperse the cloud of mystery by which her life has been enveloped for the last four years. You will tell my aunt how Madeleine has lived,—what she has done. You will tell us all about her."
"That I will, gladly!" replied he. "That is, if I can. I never in my life so much desired the pow—ow—ower of spee—ee—eech!"
He broke off, and, in an undertone, gave vent to certain exclamations which indistinctly reached the ears of the countess and Bertha.
Their amazed looks did not escape his notice, and he continued: "Ladies, I ought to ask your pardon; possibly my expressions have sounded to you somewhat profane; I am under the sad necessity of using very strong language. I cannot loosen my tongue except by the aid of these forcible expletives, and I must—must speak! For I, who have known all Mademoiselle Madeleine's noble impulses, can best explain to you her con—on—onduct."
The last word, which was the only one upon which he stammered, was followed by another emphatic ejaculation.
Bertha, without heeding this interruption, asked, "And have you known where Madeleine was concealed all this time?"