"Poor woman!" he murmured.
He sighed deeply. Three or four times his eyelids trembled, as if a tear
were about to fall. Albert watched him with anxious curiosity. This was
the first time since the viscount had grown to man's estate that he had
surprised in his father's countenance other emotion than ambition or
pride, triumphant or defeated. But M. de Commarin was not the man to
yield long to sentiment.
"You have not told me, viscount," he said, "who sent you that messenger
of misfortune."
"He came in person, sir, not wishing, he told me to mix any others up in
this sad affair. The young man was no other than he whose place I have
occupied,--your legitimate son, M. Noel Gerdy himself."
"Yes," said the count in a low tone, "Noel, that is his name, I
remember." And then, with evident hesitation, he added: "Did he speak to
you of his--of your mother?"
"Scarcely, sir. He only told me that he came unknown to her; that he had
accidentally discovered the secret which he revealed to me."
M. de Commarin asked nothing further. There was more for him to learn.
He remained for some time deep in thought. The decisive moment had come;
and he saw but one way to escape.
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