The Count looked around on the companion of all his life; he saw the tears the old man shed, and threw himself into his arms. "Ah! you love me in spite of all—"
"And so does she," said Giacomo, whose features became kindled with pleasure at this sudden exhibition of his master's love; "yes, that noble, true woman loves you dearly."
"Aminta!" said the Count, "ah! but for her you would have no master."
"Monseigneur,—no—Count!" said the old valet; "Madame la Marquise has come hither."
"Let her come—let her come—when she is with me, I pass my only happy hours."
"True," said Giacomo, "but she is not alone—"
"Who accompanies her? Who has come to see the informer? Who dares to brave the leprosy?"
The old man said, "The Prince de Maulear."
"The Prince! The Prince in my house! No, no! Tell him to go, that I see no one! I will see no one—"
"You will see me, Monsieur?" said the old nobleman, advancing with Aminta on his arm.