"Oh my unhappy son!" exclaimed the old man as he endeavoured to reach that apartment; but Edmond advanced immediately, sank down before him and embraced his knees. "Can you forgive? can you still love me?" cried he in violent emotion; "I, I, wretch that I am, have flung the brand into this house, I have rendered you and my sister miserable, I am indeed the cause of your death. Oh, most gracious, mildest of men, with what a torn heart do I lie here at your feet, unworthy to embrace them, unworthy of the dust.--"
The old man raised, pressed him to his heart and said: "Not so, my son, we are not to criticise and blame the ways of destiny in so short-sighted a manner. It was you, as I well know, who delivered me from the hands of the incendiaries. Your heart has remained to me; those walls, this inanimate possession belonged not to my happiness and existence, you are nearer to me, you are, God be praised! not lost to me. Let me enjoy the satisfaction of having found you again among the ruins, and I will thank Heaven with heartfelt tears for my calamity. Follow me now and abandon your unfortunate covenant. The time and favourable moment will be found, when we may fly over the frontiers of our native land, and under another sky be permitted to rear the blessing of our love again."
"Only require not this of me, generous man," cried Edmond, as if in unconscious anger: "at least I must punish, avenge, retaliate, in some degree on our and God's foes. Oh Catinat! how unjust I have been in censuring thee. No, I will not degrade mercy so far by wasting it on these wretches, who might take the tiger in apprenticeship in order to augment his malice and cruelty."
Vila came up with the lantern and turned the light upon the youth's pale, agitated countenance, saying with the greatest good nature: "ah! Ned! my boy! be advised: now for once only follow your aged parent there, who has ever merely required from you what is quite reasonable."
"Leave vengeance to Him," said the father in a powerful voice, "to Him, who rules, permits and superintends all, and in whose almighty arm our wrath and weakness, are no longer vengeance! I do not understand the word. Our hearts were not created for this feeling."
"Still and ever the same folly!" cried a deep voice from behind and the gaunt figure of the grey-headed Lacoste was groping his way towards them in the dark, over heaps of rubbish. "Vengeance! hatred!" exclaimed he; "who knows not those sentiments, knows love but in part. Knowest thou me still, thy rival, the Lacoste, whom thou renderedst many years ago so unhappy? Who meant thee evil were it not for thy gallant Edmond."
"How comest thou here?" cried the father astounded. "What art thou doing here?"
"I am become thy son's dog," replied the former, "I do him what service I can, at least I run after him, out of gratitude, because he has saved my life."
"I have scarcely time and feeling," said the Lord of Beauvais, "to wonder at this extraordinary rencontre."
"The hour presses indeed," cried Vila, "we have yet a long way before us and we must take advantage of the night."