"My father!" cried Florestan, retreating in alarm; and he endeavored to recall to mind the features so long forgotten. Erect, formidable, his looks irritated, his face purple with rage, his white hair thrown back, his arms crossed on his breast, the count, over-awed, confounded his son, who, with his head down, dared not to raise his eyes upon him. Yet Saint Remy, from some secret motive, made a violent effort to remain calm and to conceal his feelings of resentment.
"Father!" said Florestan, in a faltering voice, "you were there!" "I was there."
"You have heard—"
"All."
"Oh!" cried the viscount, mournfully, concealing his face in his hands.
There was a moment's pause. Florestan, at first as much astonished as vexed at the unexpected apparition of his father, soon began to think what he could make out of this incident. "All is not lost," said he to himself; "the presence of my father is a stroke of fate. He knows all; he will not have his name dishonored; he is not rich, but be must have more than twenty-five thousand francs. Let us play close—address, emotion, and a little tenderness. I will let the duchess alone, and I am saved!"
Then, giving to his charming features an expression of mournful dejection, moistening his eyes with the tears of repentance, assuming his most thrilling tones, his most pathetic manner, he cried, joining his hands with a gesture of despair: "Oh, my father: I am very unhappy! after so many years—to see you again, and at such a moment! I must appear so culpable to you! But deign to listen to me, I entreat you—I supplicate you; permit me, not to justify myself, but to explain to you my conduct; will you, my father?"
Old Saint Remy answered not a word: his features remained immovable: he seated himself, and with his chin resting on the palm of his hand, looked at his son in silence.
If Florestan had known the thoughts which filled the mind of his father with hatred, fury, and vengeance, alarmed at the apparent calmness of the count, he would not have tried to dupe him.
But, ignorant of the suspicions attached to his birth, ignorant of the fault of his mother, Florestan doubted not the success of his trick, believing he had only to soften a father who, at once a misanthrope and very proud of his name, would be capable, rather than see his name dishonored, to decide on any sacrifice.