“None but what I have already told you.”
“Therefore it is understood you intend to relinquish everything; you will even abandon your proposed union with Mademoiselle Claire d’Arlange? You forget that for two years I have in vain constantly expressed my disappointment of this marriage.”
“No, sir. I have seen Mademoiselle Claire; I have explained my unhappy position to her. Whatever happens, she has sworn to be my wife.”
“And do you think that Madame d’Arlange will give her granddaughter to M. Gerdy?”
“We hope so, sir. The marchioness is sufficiently infected with aristocratic ideas to prefer a nobleman’s bastard to the son of some honest tradesman; but should she refuse, we would await her death, though without desiring it.”
The calm manner in which Albert said this enraged the count.
“Can this be my son?” he cried. “Never! What blood have you then in your veins, sir? Your worthy mother alone might tell us, provided, however, she herself knows.”
“Sir,” cried Albert menacingly, “think well before you speak! She is my mother, and that is sufficient. I am her son, not her judge. No one shall insult her in my presence, I will not permit it, sir; and I will suffer it least of all from you.”
The count made great efforts to keep his anger within bounds, but Albert’s behavior thoroughly enraged him. What, his son rebelled, he dared to brave him to his face, he threatened him! The old fellow jumped from his chair, and moved towards the young man as if he would strike him.
“Leave the room,” he cried, in a voice choking with rage, “leave the room instantly! Retire to your apartments, and take care not to leave them without my orders. To-morrow I will let you know my decision.”