He could not restrain an exclamation of satisfaction, which passed
unnoticed by Noel.
"This note," resumed the advocate, "closes the count's correspondence
with Madame Gerdy."
"What!" exclaimed the old fellow, "you are in possession of nothing
more?"
"I have also ten lines, written many years later, which certainly have
some weight, but after all are only a moral proof."
"What a misfortune!" murmured M. Tabaret. Noel laid on the bureau the
letters he had held in his hand, and, turning towards his old friend, he
looked at him steadily.
"Suppose," said he slowly and emphasising every syllable,--"suppose that
all my information ends here. We will admit, for a moment, that I know
nothing more than you do now. What is your opinion?"
Old Tabaret remained some minutes without answering; he was estimating
the probabilities resulting from M. de Commarin's letters.
"For my own part," said he at length, "I believe on my conscience that
you are not Madame Gerdy's son."
"And you are right!" answered the advocate forcibly. "You will easily
believe, will you not, that I went and saw Claudine. She loved me, this
poor woman who had given me her milk, she suffered from the knowledge
of the injustice that had been done me.
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