The count handed the letter. His mother opened it, and read,—
"My Dear Cousin:
"Are you not aware that a woman of any tact, who has still some claims to admiration, could hardly commit the absurd faux pas of establishing in her own house, and having always by her side, a person younger and handsomer than herself? To consent to your proposition concerning Madeleine would therefore be a suicidal act"—
"This is insupportable!" ejaculated the count. "It seems that we are to be forced into continuing to bear this burden, though it may bring us to ruin. What insupportable vanity Madame de Nervac betrays! You see what her kindness of heart is worth!"
"There is still one letter to open," remarked his mother, clinging to a faint hope.
"Oh, it will be a repetition of the others,—you may be sure of that!" He tore it open angrily; but, glancing at the first lines, exclaimed, "What do I see? Have we found one reasonable and charitable person at last? The Count Damoreau writes,—
"'A thousand thanks, my dear cousin for the opportunity you afford me of being useful to that lovely and unfortunate relative of ours. I have always regarded her with admiration and affection, and always appreciated the noble generosity which prompted your kindness to the orphan.'"
"The count is a man endowed with most excellent judgment," remarked the countess with complacency.
Her son continued reading the letter,—
"'I am at this moment about to make a number of necessary repairs in my château, which will cause me to absent myself for some time. I shall probably spend a year or two on the continent.'"