“He remained silent at first, and appeared to reflect. All on a sudden he struck his forehead, and said, ‘I remember; I know her. I have accompanied my father to her house three times, and in my presence he gave her a considerable sum of money.’ I remarked to him that this was yet another proof. He made no answer, but walked up and down the room. At length he turned towards me, saying, ‘Sir, you know M. de Commarin’s legitimate son?’ I answered: ‘I am he.’ He bowed his head and murmured ‘I thought so.’ He then took my hand and added, ‘Brother, I bear you no ill will for this.’”
“It seems to me,” remarked old Tabaret, “that he might have left that to you to say, and with more reason and justice.”
“No, my friend, for he is more ill-used than I. I have not been lowered, for I did not know, whilst he! . . . .”
The old police agent nodded his head, he had to hide his thoughts, and they were stifling him.
“At length,” resumed Noel, after a rather long pause, “I asked him what he proposed doing. ‘Listen,’ he said, ‘I expect my father in about eight or ten days. You will allow me this delay. As soon as he returns I will have an explanation with him, and justice shall be done. I give you my word of honour. Take back your letters and leave me to myself. This news has utterly overwhelmed me. In a moment I lose everything: a great name that I have always borne as worthily as possible, a magnificent position, an immense fortune, and, more than all that, perhaps, the woman who is dearer to me than life. In exchange, it is true, I shall find a mother. We will console each other. And I will try, sir, to make her forget you, for she must love you, and will miss you.’”
“Did he really say that?”
“Almost word for word.”
“Hypocrite!” growled the old fellow between his teeth.
“What did you say?” asked Noel.
“I say that he is a fine young man; and I shall be delighted to make his acquaintance.”