He soon
recovered himself. 'The letters,' said he in a short tone. I handed them
to him."
"How!" cried old Tabaret, "these letters,--the true ones? How
imprudent!"
"And why?"
"If he had--I don't know; but--" the old fellow hesitated.
The advocate laid his hand upon his friend's shoulder. "I was there,"
said he in a hollow tone; "and I promise you the letters were in no
danger."
Noel's features assumed such an expression of ferocity that the old
fellow was almost afraid, and recoiled instinctively. "He would have
killed him," thought he.
"That which I have done for you this evening, my friend," resumed the
advocate, "I did for the viscount. I obviated, at least for the moment,
the necessity of reading all of these hundred and fifty-six letters.
I told him only to stop at those marked with a cross, and to carefully
read the passages indicated with a red pencil."
"It was an abridgment of his penance," remarked old Tabaret.
"He was seated," continued Noel, "before a little table, too fragile
even to lean upon. I was standing with my back to the fireplace in which
a fire was burning. I followed his slightest movements; and I scanned
his features closely.
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