"What do you wish, sir?" said Monte-Leone; "if you insult me again, you are indeed cruel."
"Monte-Leone," said Aminta, "the Prince is your friend. His words will be of service; I brought him hither."
The Count sank on his seat and was silent.
"Count," said the Prince, "had I not been confined at one of my estates for eight months by an obstinate gout, you would have seen me long since."
"Ah!" said the Count, with surprise.
"You would have seen me brought to you by repentance for the injury I did you. I gave way, Monte-Leone, to an indignant feeling I shall regret all my life. Reflection has enlightened me. The account I have heard from my daughter-in-law, the resources which you concealed, and especially your despair, the wasted condition of your health, the ravages of your misery, her love, her respect, have long told me how unjust I was to you."
The Count looked at the Prince with mingled astonishment and doubt. The Prince said, "As men of our rank are glad to confess their faults, and ask pardon for them, I beg you, sir, to forgive me." The Prince bowed to Monte-Leone, who seemed overcome by emotion.
Taking the Prince's hand he placed it on his heart and said, "Now, sir, feel this palpitation, and tell me whether the heart of a bad or guilty man ever beat thus with joy, at justice being done him."
From this day Monte-Leone enjoyed two of the greatest pleasures of life—a tender love, and a noble friendship....
A month after the first visit of the Prince de Maulear to the house at Neuilly, the following scene took place in a sad room of the rue Casette in the Faubourg St. Germain.