Marshal Hulot laid the papers on his comrade's table, and held out to him the two hundred thousand francs.
"Here is the money of which my brother robbed the State," said he.
"What madness!" cried the Minister. "It is impossible," he said into the speaking-trumpet handed to him by the Marshal, "to manage this restitution. We should be obliged to declare your brother's dishonest dealings, and we have done everything to hide them."
"Do what you like with the money; but the family shall not owe one sou of its fortune to a robbery on the funds of the State," said the Count.
"I will take the King's commands in the matter. We will discuss it no further," replied the Prince, perceiving that it would be impossible to conquer the old man's sublime obstinacy on the point.
"Good-bye, Cottin," said the old soldier, taking the Prince's hand. "I feel as if my soul were frozen—"
Then, after going a step towards the door, he turned round, looked at the Prince, and seeing that he was deeply moved, he opened his arms to clasp him in them; the two old soldiers embraced each other.
"I feel as if I were taking leave of the whole of the old army in you," said the Count.
"Good-bye, my good old comrade!" said the Minister.
"Yes, it is good-bye; for I am going where all our brave men are for whom we have mourned—"