"
"I feel scarcely master of myself, sir," began Noel; "so pray pardon
my emotion. If any words escape me that seem charged with bitterness,
excuse them; they will be involuntary. Up to the past few days, I always
believed that I was the offspring of illicit love. My history is short.
I have been honourably ambitious; I have worked hard. He who has no
name must make one, you know. I have passed a quiet life, retired and
austere, as people must, who, starting at the foot of the ladder, wish
to reach the top. I worshipped her whom I believed to be my mother; and
I felt convinced that she loved me in return. The stain of my birth had
some humiliations attached to it; but I despised them. Comparing my
lot with that of so many others, I felt that I had more than common
advantages. One day, Providence placed in my hands all the letters which
my father, the Count de Commarin, had written to Madame Gerdy during
the time she was his mistress. On reading these letters, I was convinced
that I was not what I had hitherto believed myself to be,--that Madame
Gerdy was not my mother!"
And, without giving M. Daburon time to reply, he laid before him the
facts which, twelve hours before, he had related to M.
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