'No, sir; I have no grand-daughter,' said old Reynolds, his face and whole form becoming rigid with the expression of obstinacy. 'Rather have no descendant than be forced to acknowledge an illegitimate child.'
'My lord, I entreat as a friend—I command you to be patient,' said the count, who saw Lord Colambre's indignation suddenly rise.
'So, then, this is the purpose of your visit,' continued old Reynolds; 'and you come from my enemies, from the St. Omars, and you are in a league with them,' continued old Reynolds; 'and all this time it is of my eldest son you have been talking.'
'Yes, sir,' replied the count; 'of Captain Reynolds, who fell in battle, in the Austrian service, about nineteen years ago—a more gallant and amiable youth never lived.'
Pleasure revived through the dull look of obstinacy in the father's eyes.
'He was, as you say, sir, a gallant, an amiable youth, once and he was my pride, and I loved him, too, once but did not you know I had another?'
'No, sir, we did not—we are, you may perceive, totally ignorant of your family and of your affairs we have no connexion whatever or knowledge of any of the St. Omars.'
'I detest the sound of the name,' cried Lord Colambre.
'Oh, good! good!—Well! well! I beg your pardon, gentlemen, a thousand times—I am a hasty, very hasty old man; but I have been harassed, persecuted, hunted by wretches, who got a scent of my gold; often in my rage I longed to throw my treasure-bags to my pursuers, and bid them leave me to die in peace. You have feelings, I see, both of you, gentlemen; excuse me, and bear with my temper.'
'Bear with you! Much enforced, the best tempers will emit a hasty spark,' said the count, looking at Lord Colambre, who was now cool again; and who, with a countenance full of compassion, sat with his eyes fixed upon the poor—no, not the poor, but the unhappy old man.