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Updated: June 6, 2025
"Unfortunately," said he, "we are not mistaken. It is but too clearly shown that M. de Commarin is the murderer. However, if you like, you can ask Constant for his report of the examination, and read it over while I put these papers in order." "Very well," said the old fellow with feverish anxiety.
He had already opened it, when M. de Commarin experienced one of those revulsions of feeling, so frequent in violent natures. "Albert," said he, "come here and listen to me." The young man turned back, much affected by this change. "Do not go," continued the count, "until I have told you what I think. You are worthy of being the heir of a great house, sir.
This last phrase conflicted so directly with the code of opinions habitual to Noel, that old Tabaret was obliged to turn aside, to conceal his amusement. "Poor humanity!" thought he; "he is already the grand seigneur." "On presenting myself," continued the advocate, "I demanded to see the Count de Commarin.
"So," said a cook, "that tall dark fellow with the whiskers is the count's true son!" "You are right," said one of the footmen who had accompanied M. de Commarin; "as for the other, he is no more his son than Jean here; who, by the way, will be kicked out of doors, if he is caught in this part of the house with his dirty working-shoes on."
A man may well feel so, when all women are as nothing to him except one, whom he may never dare hope to possess. Too pious a man to think of suicide, he asked himself with anguish what would become of him when he threw aside his magistrate's robes. Then he turned again to the business in hand. In any case, innocent or guilty, Albert was really the Viscount de Commarin, the count's legitimate son.
He rang the bell, and a footman appeared almost immediately. "Neither the viscount nor I am at home to any one," said M. de Commarin, "no matter whom." The revelation which had just taken place, irritated much more than it surprised the Count de Commarin. For twenty years, he had been constantly expecting to see the truth brought to light.
I thought myself out of reach of the thunderbolt; and I have been the means of drawing down the storm upon my house. Albert an assassin! A Viscount de Commarin arraigned before a court of assize! Ah, sir, punish me, also; for I alone and long ago, laid the foundation of this crime. Fifteen centuries of spotless fame end with me in infamy."
Three or four times his eyelids trembled, as if a tear were about to fall. Albert watched him with anxious curiosity. This was the first time since the viscount had grown to man's estate that he had surprised in his father's countenance other emotion than ambition or pride, triumphant or defeated. But M. de Commarin was not the man to yield long to sentiment.
"You will excuse me, gentlemen," said he, "if I am indiscreet. I did not think of being so when I asked to wait for Noel, whom I have the most pressing need of seeing. I am the Count de Commarin." At this name, the old soldier let go the back of the chair which he was still holding and haughtily raised his head. An angry light flashed in his eyes, and he made a threatening gesture.
"You are aware, sir," he commenced in a tone of perfect politeness, "that you have no right to the name you bear?" "I know, sir," replied Albert, "that I am the natural son of M. de Commarin. I know further that my father would be unable to recognise me, even if he wished to, since I was born during his married life." "What were your feelings upon learning this?"
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