“Before we go further,” said he, “let me conclude this narrative which Paul has just read.  It is sad and simple.  The united ages of the Duke and Duchess did not exceed fifty years; they had unlimited wealth, and bore one of the grandest historic names of France; they were surrounded with every appliance of luxury, and yet their lives were a perfect wreck.  They simply dragged on an existence and had lost all hopes of happiness, but they made up their minds to conceal the skeleton of their house in the darkest cupboard, and the world knew nothing of their inner life.  The Duchess suffered much in health, and merely went out to visit the sick and poor.  The Duke worked hard to make up for the deficiencies of his early education, and made a name and reputation throughout Europe.”

“And how about Madame de Mussidan?” asked Catenac.

“I am coming to that,” returned Mascarin.  “With that strange determination that fills the hearts of our women, she did not consider her revenge complete until Norbert learned that she was the sole instrument in heaping the crowing sorrow of his life on his head; and on her return from Italy, she sent for him and told him everything.  Yes, she absolutely had the audacity to tell him that it was she who had done her best to throw his wife into De Croisenois’ arms.  She told him that it was she who had worked the arrangements for the meeting, and had written the anonymous letter.”

“Why did he not kill her?” cried Hortebise.  “Had she not all his letters, and taunted him with the production of them?  Ah, my dear friends, do not let us flatter ourselves that we have the sole monopoly of blackmailing.  The high-born Countess plunged her hand into the Duke’s coffers just as if she had been a mere adventuress.  It is only ten days ago that she borrowed—­you will observe the entry of it as a loan—­a large sum to settle an account of Van Klopen’s.  But let us now speak of the child who took the place of the boy whom the Duchess brought into the world.  You know him, doctor?”

“Yes, I have often seen him.  He was a good-looking young fellow.”

“He was, but he was a degraded scoundrel, after all.  He was educated and brought up without regard to expense, but he always displayed low tastes, and, had he lived, would have brought discredit on the name he bore.  He was a thorn in the side of the Duke and Duchess, and I believe that they felt great relief when he died of brain fever, brought on by a drunken debauch.  His parents, or those whom he supposed to be such, were present at his death-bed, for they had learned to consider their sorrows as the just chastisement of heaven.  The boy having died, the family of Champdoce seemed likely to become extinct, and then it was that Norbert decided to do what his wife had long urged upon him, to seek for and reclaim the child which he had caused to be placed in the Foundling Hospital at Vendome.  It went against his pride to diverge from the course he had determined on as