and I would have given it to you; but let that pass.  You have been, notwithstanding this disloyalty, better than others, as I believe.  But that you, who knew my toil for our country, for France, you have seen me giving night after night to the Emperor’s service, and working eighteen hours of each twenty-four for months together, you who knew my love for Madame de Serizy,—­that you should have gossiped about me before a boy! holding up my secrets and my affections to the ridicule of a Madame Husson!—­”

“Monseigneur!”

“It is unpardonable.  To injure a man’s interest, why, that is nothing; but to stab his heart!—­Oh! you do not know what you have done!”

The count put his head in his hands and was silent for some moments.

“I leave you what you have gained,” he said after a time, “and I shall forget you.  For my sake, for my dignity, and for your honor, we will part decently; for I cannot but remember even now what your father did for mine.  You will explain the duties of the stewardship in a proper manner to Monsieur de Reybert, who succeeds you.  Be calm, as I am.  Give no opportunity for fools to talk.  Above all, let there be no recrimination or petty meanness.  Though you no longer possess my confidence, endeavor to behave with the decorum of well-bred persons.  As for that miserable boy who has wounded me to death, I will not have him sleep at Presles; send him to the inn; I will not answer for my own temper if I see him.”

“I do not deserve such gentleness, monseigneur,” said Moreau, with tears in his eyes.  “Yes, you are right; if I had been utterly dishonest I should now be worth five hundred thousand francs instead of half that sum.  I offer to give you an account of my fortune, with all its details.  But let me tell you, monseigneur, that in talking of you with Madame Clapart, it was never in derision; but, on the contrary, to deplore your state, and to ask her for certain remedies, not used by physicians, but known to the common people.  I spoke of your feelings before the boy, who was in his bed and, as I supposed, asleep (it seems he must have been awake and listening to us), with the utmost affection and respect.  Alas! fate wills that indiscretions be punished like crimes.  But while accepting the results of your just anger, I wish you to know what actually took place.  It was, indeed, from heart to heart that I spoke of you to Madame Clapart.  As for my wife, I have never said one word of these things—­”

“Enough,” said the count, whose conviction was now complete; “we are not children.  All is now irrevocable.  Put your affairs and mine in order.  You can stay in the pavilion until October.  Monsieur and Madame de Reybert will lodge for the present in the chateau; endeavor to keep on terms with them, like well-bred persons who hate each other, but still keep up appearances.”

The count and Moreau went downstairs; Moreau white as the count’s hair, the count himself calm and dignified.