ifteen preparatory days of mental
torture exhausts one's emotions. I answered the question I saw upon
his lips. 'Sir,' said I, 'you do not know me; but that is of little
consequence. I come to you, charged with a very grave, a very sad
mission, which touches the honour of the name you bear.' Without doubt
he did not believe me, for, in an impertinent tone, he asked me, 'Shall
you be long?' I answered simply, 'Yes.'"

"Pray," interrupted old Tabaret, now become very attentive, "do not omit
a single detail; it may be very important, you understand."

"The viscount," continued Noel, "appeared very much put out. 'The fact
is,' he explained, 'I had already disposed of my time. This is the hour
at which I call on the young lady to whom I am engaged, Mademoiselle
d'Arlange. Can we not postpone this conversation?'"

"Good! another woman!" said the old fellow to himself.

"I answered the viscount, that an explanation would admit of no delay;
and, as I saw him prepare to dismiss me, I drew from my pocket the
count's correspondence, and presented one of the letters to him. On
recognizing his father's handwriting, he became more tractable, declared
himself at my service, and asked permission to write a word of apology
to the lady by whom he was expected. Having hastily written the note
he handed it to his valet, and ordered him to send at once to Madame
d'Arlange, He then asked me to pass into the next room, which was his
library."

"One word," interrupted the old fellow; "was he troubled on seeing the
letters?"

"Not the least in the world. After carefully closing the door, he
pointed to a chair, seated himself, and said, 'Now, sir, explain
yourself.' I had had time to prepare myself for this interview whilst
waiting in the ante-room. I had decided to go straight to the point.
'Sir,' said I, 'my mission is painful. The facts I am about to reveal to
you are incredible. I beg you, do not answer me until you have read the
letters I have here. I beseech you, above all, to keep calm.' He looked
at me with an air of extreme surprise, and answered, 'Speak! I can hear
all.' I stood up, and said, 'Sir, I must inform you that you are not the
legitimate son of M. de Commarin, as this correspondence will prove to
you. The legitimate son exists; and he it is who sends me.' I kept my
eyes on his while speaking, and I saw there a passing gleam of fury.
For a moment I thought he was about to spring at my throat. He soon
recovered himself.