I cannot help hating this woman, who, in spite of me bears my
name, innocent victim though she is of the barbarity of our parents.
And, to complete my misery, she too will soon render me a father.
Who can describe my sorrow when I compare the fortunes of these two
children?
"'The one, the son of the object of my tenderest love, will have neither
father nor family, nor even a name, since a law framed to make lovers
unhappy prevents my acknowledging him. While the other, the son of
my detested wife, by the sole fact of his birth, will be rich, noble,
surrounded by devotion and homage, with a great position in the world.
I cannot bear the thought of this terrible injustice! How it is to be
prevented, I do not know: but rest assured I shall find a way. It is to
him who is the most desired, the most cherished, the most beloved, that
the greater fortune should come; and come to him it shall, for I so will
it.'"
"From where is that letter dated?" asked old Tabaret. The style in which
it was written had already settled one point in his mind.
"See," replied Noel. He handed the letter to the old fellow, who read,--
"Venice, December, 1828.
Pages:
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92