"But M. le Vicomte never visits him?"
"His father?"
"Yes."
"Never—never!"
"Have they quarrelled, then?"
"What I am going to tell you is no secret, for I have it from the old man of business of M. the Prince de Noirmont."
"Father of Madame de Lucenay?" said Edwards, with a knowing glance at Boyer, who, appearing not to understand him, replied coolly:
"Madame la Duchesse de Lucenay is the daughter of M. the Prince de Noirmont. The father of M. le Vicomte was bosom friend of the prince. Madame la Duchesse was then very young, and M. de Saint-Remy, senior, who was very fond of her, treated her as if she were his own child. I learnt these details from Simon, the prince's man of business; and I may speak unhesitatingly, for the adventure I am about to narrate to you was, at the time, the talk of all Paris. In spite of his sixty years, the father of M. le Vicomte is a man of iron disposition, with the courage of a lion, of probity which I call almost fabulous. He had scarcely any property of his own, and had married the vicomte's mother for love. She was a young person of good fortune, possessing about a million of francs, at the melting of which we have had the honour to be present." And M. Boyer bowed. Edwards imitated him.
"The marriage was a very happy one, until the moment when the father of M. le Vicomte found—accidentally, as they say—some letters, which proved that, during one of his absences three or four years after his marriage, his wife had had an attachment for a certain Polish count."
"That often happens to these Poles. When I was at the Marquis de Senneval's, the marquise, a regular she-devil—"