be
separated from her child. I have preserved, as a monument of my folly,
the letters which she wrote to me at that time. I re-read them only last
night. Ah! why did I not listen to both her arguments and her prayers?
It was because I was mad. She had a sort of presentiment of the evil
which overwhelms me to-day. But I came to Paris;--I had absolute
control over her. I threatened to leave her, never to see her again. She
yielded; and my valet and Claudine Lerouge were charged with this wicked
substitution. It is, therefore, the son of my mistress who bears the
title of Viscount de Commarin, and who was arrested but a short time
ago."

M. Daburon had not hoped for a declaration so clear, and above all
so prompt. He secretly rejoiced for the young advocate whose noble
sentiments had quite captivated him.

"So, count," said he, "you acknowledge that M. Noel Gerdy is the issue
of your legitimate marriage, and that he alone is entitled to bear your
name?"

"Yes, sir. Alas! I was then more delighted at the success of my project
than I should have been over the most brilliant victory. I was so
intoxicated with the joy of having my Valerie's child there, near me,
that I forgot everything else. I had transferred to him a part of my
love for his mother; or, rather, I loved him still more, if that be
possible. The thought that he would bear my name, that he would inherit
all my wealth, to the detriment of the other, transported me with
delight. The other, I hated; I could not even look upon him. I do not
recollect having kissed him twice. On this point Valerie, who was
very good, reproached me severely. One thing alone interfered with my
happiness. The Countess de Commarin adored him whom she believed to be
her son, and always wished to have him on her knees. I cannot express
what I suffered at seeing my wife cover with kisses and caresses the
child of my mistress. But I kept him from her as much as I could; and
she, poor woman! not understanding what was passing within me, imagined
that I was doing everything to prevent her son loving her. She died,
sir, with this idea, which poisoned her last days. She died of sorrow;
but saint-like, without a complaint, without a murmur, pardon upon her
lips and in her heart."

Though greatly pressed for time, M. Daburon did not venture to interrupt
the count, to ask him briefly for the immediate facts of the case. He
knew that fever alone gave him this unnatural energy, to which at any