tly prove that I am
not the son of the Countess de Commarin.' I did not answer. 'Meanwhile,'
continued he, 'these are only presumptions. Are you possessed of
other proofs?' I expected, of course, a great many other objections.
'Germain,' said I, 'can speak.' He told me that Germain had been dead
for several years. Then I spoke of the nurse, Widow Lerouge--I explained
how easily she could be found and questioned, adding that she lived at
La Jonchere."

"And what said he, Noel, to this?" asked old Tabaret anxiously.

"He remained silent at first, and appeared to reflect. All on a sudden
he struck his forehead, and said, 'I remember; I know her. I have
accompanied my father to her house three times, and in my presence he
gave her a considerable sum of money.' I remarked to him that this was
yet another proof. He made no answer, but walked up and down the room.
At length he turned towards me, saying, 'Sir, you know M. de Commarin's
legitimate son?' I answered: 'I am he.' He bowed his head and murmured
'I thought so.' He then took my hand and added, 'Brother, I bear you no
ill will for this.'"

"It seems to me," remarked old Tabaret, "that he might have left that to
you to say, and with more reason and justice."

"No, my friend, for he is more ill-used than I. I have not been lowered,
for I did not know, whilst he! . . . ."

The old police agent nodded his head, he had to hide his thoughts, and
they were stifling him.

"At length," resumed Noel, after a rather long pause, "I asked him what
he proposed doing. 'Listen,' he said, 'I expect my father in about eight
or ten days. You will allow me this delay. As soon as he returns I will
have an explanation with him, and justice shall be done. I give you my
word of honour. Take back your letters and leave me to myself. This news
has utterly overwhelmed me. In a moment I lose everything: a great
name that I have always borne as worthily as possible, a magnificent
position, an immense fortune, and, more than all that, perhaps, the
woman who is dearer to me than life. In exchange, it is true, I shall
find a mother. We will console each other. And I will try, sir, to make
her forget you, for she must love you, and will miss you.'"

"Did he really say that?"

"Almost word for word."

"Hypocrite!" growled the old fellow between his teeth.

"What did you say?" asked Noel.

"I say that he is a fine young man; and I shall be delighted to make his
acquaintance."

"I did not