He was unwilling to strike his son; he considered him unworthy
of being struck by his hand. Then there was a moment of mortal silence,
which seemed to both of them a century.
At the same time their minds were filled with thoughts, which would
require a volume to transcribe.
Noel had the courage to speak first.
"Sir," he began.
"Silence!" exclaimed the count hoarsely; "be silent! Can it be, heaven
forgive me! that you are my son? Alas, I cannot doubt it now! Wretch!
you knew well that you were Madame Gerdy's son. Infamous villain! you
not only committed this murder, but you did everything to cause an
innocent man to be charged with your crime! Parricide! you have also
killed your mother."
The advocate attempted to stammer forth a protest.
"You killed her," continued the count with increased energy, "if not
by poison, at least by your crime. I understand all now; she was not
delirious this morning. But you know as well as I do what she was
saying. You were listening, and, if you dared to enter at that moment
when one word more would have betrayed you, it was because you had
calculated the effect of your presence. It was to you that she addressed
her last word, 'Assassin!'"
Little by little, Noel had retired to the end of the room, and he stood
leaning against the wall, his head thrown back, his hair on end, his
look haggard.
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