The other, I hated; I could not even look upon him. I do not
recollect having kissed him twice. On this point Valerie, who was
very good, reproached me severely. One thing alone interfered with my
happiness. The Countess de Commarin adored him whom she believed to be
her son, and always wished to have him on her knees. I cannot express
what I suffered at seeing my wife cover with kisses and caresses the
child of my mistress. But I kept him from her as much as I could; and
she, poor woman! not understanding what was passing within me, imagined
that I was doing everything to prevent her son loving her. She died,
sir, with this idea, which poisoned her last days. She died of sorrow;
but saint-like, without a complaint, without a murmur, pardon upon her
lips and in her heart."
Though greatly pressed for time, M. Daburon did not venture to interrupt
the count, to ask him briefly for the immediate facts of the case. He
knew that fever alone gave him this unnatural energy, to which at any
moment might succeed the most complete prostration. He feared, if he
stopped him for an instant, that he would not have strength enough to
resume.
"I did not shed a single tear," continued the count.
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