“Aloud. Though I know every word.”
“My Cousin,—I have taken the liberty of borrowing the sum which you had so thoughtfully prepared for Monsieur Charles. It would have been better for him if you had accepted my offer to post your letter; as you declined to trust me, I had no scruple in exchanging it for another which found itself in my hand at the exact moment. Do not blame your messenger, who is quite unaware of the transaction. By my writing to you, you will perceive that I have no intention of denying what I have done. It is in your power to have me arrested. You know where to find me, and I will remain in Paris for two days, so as to avoid the pain to my family of a scandal at Poissy. Permit me, however, to point out that I have only taken the money as a loan, that it will be returned to you by instalments and with interest, though, I fear, slowly, and that you may find it more advantageous to allow the matter to rest than to ruin one who, however unworthy, is the son of the man to whom you are certainly indebted for your prosperity.”
M. Charles silently refolded the letter, and the count lay watching him. “Well?” he asked, at last.
“The money has, of course, never been repaid?”
“Every penny.”
This answer came upon the hearer as an extraordinary surprise. He stared amazedly at the old man.
“I received, first, an instalment of five hundred francs, afterwards all that remained of the debt. You are astonished!”
“I should not have expected it of—of the Baron Léon.”
“Ah, I told you you did not understand the De Beaudrillarts. But now listen. I have never forgiven him. I have never sent him a line of acknowledgment. I have kept his confession and André’s statement—”
“Oh,” said Charles, pricking his ears.