de Commarin, and Viscount de Commarin you shall remain,
in spite of yourself, if necessary. You shall retain the title to your
death, or at least to mine; for never, while I live, shall your absurd
idea be carried out."

"But, sir," began Albert, timidly.

"You are very daring to interrupt me while I am speaking, sir,"
exclaimed the count. "Do I not know all your objections beforehand? You
are going to tell me that it is a revolting injustice, a wicked robbery.
I confess it, and grieve over it more than you possibly can. Do you
think that I now for the first time repent of my youthful folly? For
twenty years, sir, I have lamented my true son; for twenty years I have
cursed the wickedness of which he is the victim. And yet I learnt how to
keep silence, and to hide the sorrow and remorse which have covered my
pillow with thorns. In a single instant, your senseless yielding would
render my long sufferings of no avail. No, I will never permit it!"

The count read a reply on his son's lips: he stopped him with a
withering glance.

"Do you think," he continued, "that I have never wept over the thought
of my legitimate son passing his life struggling for a competence? Do
you think that I have never felt a burning desire to repair the wrong
done him? There have been times, sir, when I would have given half of my
fortune simply to embrace that child of a wife too tardily appreciated.
The fear of casting a shadow of suspicion upon your birth prevented me.
I have sacrificed myself to the great name I bear. I received it from my
ancestors without a stain. May you hand it down to your children equally
spotless! Your first impulse was a worthy one, generous and noble;
but you must forget it. Think of the scandal, if our secret should
be disclosed to the public gaze. Can you not foresee the joy of our
enemies, of that herd of upstarts which surrounds us? I shudder at the
thought of the odium and the ridicule which would cling to our name. Too
many families already have stains upon their escutcheons; I will have
none on mine."

M. de Commarin remained silent for several minutes, during which Albert
did not dare say a word, so much had he been accustomed since infancy to
respect the least wish of the terrible old gentleman.

"There is no possible way out of it," continued the count. "Can I
discard you to-morrow, and present this Noel as my son, saying, 'Excuse
me, but there has been a slight mistake; this one is the viscount?' And