He had vaguely thought of certain rather severe remarks, which were to
overcome the old nobleman, and bring him to a sense of his position.
But when he found himself in the presence of such a sincere repentance,
his indignation changed to profound pity; and he began to wonder how he
could assuage the count's grief.
"Write, sir," continued M. de Commarin with an exaltation of which he
did not seem capable ten minutes before,--"write my avowal and suppress
nothing. I have no longer need of mercy nor of tenderness. What have
I to fear now? Is not my disgrace public? Must not I, Count Rheteau
de Commarin appear before the tribunal, to proclaim the infamy of our
house? Ah! all is lost now, even honour itself. Write, sir; for I wish
that all the world shall know that I am the most deserving of blame. But
they shall also know that the punishment has been already terrible, and
that there was no need for this last and awful trial."
The count stopped for a moment, to concentrate and arrange his memory.
He soon continued, in a firmer voice, and adapting his tone to what he
had to say, "When I was of Albert's age, sir, my parents made me marry,
in spite of my protestations, the noblest and purest of young girls.
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