Albert's apartment was on the same floor as his father's; only the width of the hall separated them. The young man had just taken off his coat, waistcoat, and cravat, and was putting on a robe de chambre, when his father appeared.
"What! up already?" cried Albert.
Monsieur Vermoncey's only reply was to go to his son and embrace him; he, meanwhile, scrutinized his father closely, then said:
"I'll wager that you haven't been in bed; yes, I can tell by the tired look of your eyes; you have had no sleep, probably because I did not come home; you are quite capable of sitting up all night for me! Allow me to tell you that that is utterly absurd. Am I still a child? Am I not at liberty to stay at a house where I am enjoying myself, if I have an opportunity, or to play a game of cards with my friends? In a word, father, may I not venture to pass a night away from home, without your sitting up for me, like a schoolboy who is thought to be lost? I tell you again that it is very annoying to me!"
"I have not reproached you," said Monsieur Vermoncey, fixing his eyes upon Albert.
"No, you don't reproach me, but that makes no difference. Do you think that I can take any pleasure at a party that happens to last far into the night, if I know that you are sitting up for me, that you are anxious about me? Nothing of this sort would have happened if I had carried out my first idea. I wanted to live somewhere else; then you wouldn't know at what time I came home. I know very well that you don't interfere with my doing whatever I choose; but a man is always more at liberty living by himself, and it would be much better."
Monsieur Vermoncey replied, with a melancholy air, but with dignity:
"After all the misfortunes that have crushed me to the earth, I thought that I might venture to ask you to comply with my wishes in some slight measure. Having lost your mother, your brothers, and your sister, and having nothing but your presence to assist me to endure my grief, I thought that you would not seek to deprive me of it, but that you would feel how essential it was for me to be able to rest my eyes on one of my children, the only one heaven has deigned to leave me. In spite of that, I did not curtail your liberty at all, I claimed no right to pry into your acts—although, perhaps, a father is entitled to know what his son is doing. But as it seems that I have asked too much, that, in asking you to live in the same house with me, I demand too great a sacrifice, go, my son, leave this apartment; I will not seek to detain you, but I shall not cease, on that account, to love you as dearly as ever."
While his father was speaking, Albert's expression changed; it was easy to read in his eyes that his father's reproaches had reached his heart. Monsieur Vermoncey had hardly finished, when his son threw himself into his arms.
"I am wrong, father, I am wrong!" he cried; "I am a heedless fool! I don't know what I am saying! I say things that grieve you, who have always been so kind and generous and indulgent to me! Please forgive me! Forget all that I have said, and let there be no more question between us of living apart. I know that I should never be so happy anywhere else as with you. All these friends of mine—my companions in pleasure—I go with them because I have a good time with them; but I promise you that I appreciate them at their real value. Come, embrace me. You are not angry with me any longer, are you?"