"She, she!" repeated Morel, burying his face in his hands, "she dishonored! oh! infamous, infamous!"
"Is she dishonored to save you?" whispered Rudolph.
These words made a startling impression on Morel; he looked at his weeping child, still kneeling at his feet, then, interrogating her with a look impossible to describe, he cried in a hollow voice, his teeth grinding with rage, "The notary!"
An answer came to the lips of Louise. She was about to speak, but, on reflection, she stopped, bent her head, and remained silent.
"But no—he wished to imprison me this morning," continued Morel; "it is not he? oh, so much the better! so much the better. She has no excuse for her fault; I can curse her without remorse."
"No, no! do not curse me, my father; to you I will tell all; to you alone; and you will see—you will see if I do not deserve your pardon."
"Listen to her for the sake of pity," said Rudolph.
"What can she tell me? her infamy? it will soon be public; I will wait."
"Sir!" cried Louise to the magistrate, "in mercy let me say a few words to my father before leaving him, perhaps forever. And before you also, our savior, I will speak, but only before you and my father."
"I consent," said the magistrate.