Suppose for a moment
that this young man has a soul sufficiently noble to relinquish his
claim upon your rank and your fortune. Is there not now the accumulated
rancour of years to urge him to oppose you? He cannot help feeling a
fierce resentment for the horrible injustice of which he has been the
victim. He must passionately long for vengeance, or rather reparation."
"He has no proofs."
"He has your letters, sir."
"They are not decisive, you yourself have told me so."
"That is true, sir; and yet they convinced me, who have an interest in
not being convinced. Besides, if he needs witnesses, he will find them."
"Who? Yourself, viscount?"
"Yourself, sir. The day when he wishes it, you will betray us. Suppose
you were summoned before a tribunal, and that there, under oath, you
should be required to speak the truth, what answer would you make?"
M. de Commarin's face darkened at this very natural supposition. He
hesitated, he whose honour was usually so great.
"I would save the name of my ancestors," he said at last.
Albert shook his head doubtfully. "At the price of a lie, my father,"
he said. "I never will believe it.
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