Must I say it, her complicity in
the matter weighed upon her conscience; it was a remorse too great for
her old age. I saw her, I interrogated her, and she told me all. The
count's scheme, simply and yet ingeniously conceived, succeeded without
any effort. Three days after my birth, the crime was committed, and I,
poor, helpless infant, was betrayed, despoiled and disinherited by my
natural protector, by my own father! Poor Claudine! She promised me her
testimony for the day on which I should reclaim my rights!"
"And she is gone, carrying her secret with her!" murmured the old fellow
in a tone of regret.
"Perhaps!" replied Noel, "for I have yet one hope. Claudine had in her
possession several letters which had been written to her a long time
ago, some by the count, some by Madame Gerdy, letters both imprudent
and explicit. They will be found, no doubt, and their evidence will
be decisive. I have held these letters in my hands, I have read them;
Claudine particularly wished me to keep them, why did I not do so?"
No! there was no hope on that side, and old Tabaret knew so better than
any one. It was these very letters, no doubt, that the assassin of La
Jonchere wanted.
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