explain yourself. I need say
nothing to you of the position of a father, obliged to blush before his
son; you understand it, and will feel for me. Let us spare each other,
and try to be calm. Tell me, how did you obtain your knowledge of this
correspondence?"

Albert had had time to recover himself, and prepare for the present
struggle, as he had impatiently waited four days for this interview.

The difficulty he experienced in uttering the first words had now given
place to a dignified and proud demeanor. He expressed himself clearly
and forcibly, without losing himself in those details which in serious
matters needlessly defer the real point at issue.

"Sir," he replied, "on Sunday morning, a young man called here, stating
that he had business with me of the utmost importance. I received
him. He then revealed to me that I, alas! am only your natural son,
substituted through your affection, for the legitimate child borne you
by Madame de Commarin."

"And did you not have this man kicked out of doors?" exclaimed the
count.

"No, sir. I was about to answer him very sharply, of course; but,
presenting me with a packet of letters, he begged me to read them before
replying."

"Ah!" cried M. de Commarin, "you should have thrown them into the fire,
for there was a fire, I suppose? You held them in your hands; and they
still exist! Why was I not there?"

"Sir!" said Albert, reproachfully. And, recalling the position Noel had
occupied against the mantelpiece, and the manner in which he stood, he
added,--"Even if the thought had occurred to me, it was impracticable.
Besides, at the first glance, I recognised your handwriting. I therefore
took the letters, and read them."

"And then?"

"And then, sir, I returned the correspondence to the young man, and
asked for a delay of eight days; not to think over it myself--there
was no need of that,--but because I judged an interview with you
indispensable. Now, therefore, I beseech you, tell me whether this
substitution really did take place.

"Certainly it did," replied the count violently, "yes, certainly. You
know that it did, for you have read what I wrote to Madame Gerdy, your
mother."

Albert had foreseen, had expected this reply; but it crushed him
nevertheless.

There are misfortunes so great, that one must constantly think of them
to believe in their existence. This flinching, however, lasted but an
instant.

"Pardon me, sir," he replied. "I was almost convince