ed.

"What, sir!" cried Noel with ardour, "would you abandon him, when he
has not a friend left in the world? He is still your son, sir, he is
my brother; for thirty years he has borne the name of Commarin. All the
members of a family are jointly liable. Innocent, or guilty, he has a
right to count upon us; and we owe him our assistance."

"What do you then hope for, sir?" asked the count.

"To save him, if he is innocent; and I love to believe that he is. I am
an advocate, sir, and I wish to defend him. I have been told that I
have some talent; in such a cause I must have. Yes, however strong the
charges against him may be, I will overthrow them. I will dispel all
doubts. The truth shall burst forth at the sound of my voice. I will
find new accents to imbue the judges with my own conviction. I will save
him, and this shall be my last cause."

"And if he should confess," said the count, "if he has already
confessed?"

"Then, sir," replied Noel with a dark look, "I will render him the last
service, which in such a misfortune I should ask of a brother, I will
procure him the means of avoiding judgment."

"That is well spoken, sir," said the count, "very well, my son!"

And he held out his hand to Noel, who pressed it, bowing a respectful
acknowledgment. The advocate took a long breath. At last he had found
the way to this haughty noble's heart; he had conquered, he had pleased
him.

"Let us return to yourself, sir," continued the count. "I yield to the
reasons which you have suggested. All shall be done as you desire. But
do not consider this a precedent. I never change my plans, even though
they are proved to be bad, and contrary to my interests. But at least
nothing prevents your remaining here from to-day, and taking your meals
with me. We will, first of all, see where you can be lodged, until you
formally take possession of the apartments which are to be prepared for
you."

Noel had the hardihood to again interrupt the old nobleman.

"Sir," said he, "when you bade me follow you here, I obeyed you, as was
my duty. Now another and a sacred duty calls me away. Madame Gerdy is
at this moment dying. Ought I to leave the deathbed of her who filled my
mother's place?"

"Valerie!" murmured the count. He leaned upon the arm of his chair, his
face buried in his hands; in one moment the whole past rose up before
him.

"She has done me great harm," he murmured, as if answering his thoughts.
"She has ruined my whol