“And Claudine,” continued the young man; “will she be silent, too?”

“For money, yes; and I will give her whatever she asks.”

“And you would trust, father, to a paid silence, as if one could ever be sure of a purchased conscience?  What is sold to you may be sold to another.  A certain sum may close her mouth; a larger will open it.”

“I will frighten her.”

“You forget, father, that Claudine Lerouge was Noel Gerdy’s nurse, that she takes an interest in his happiness, that she loves him.  How do you know that he has not already secured her aid?  She lives at Bougival.  I went there, I remember, with you.  No doubt, he sees her often; perhaps it is she who put him on the track of this correspondence.  He spoke to me of her, as though he were sure of her testimony.  He almost proposed my going to her for information.”

“Alas!” cried the count, “why is not Claudine dead instead of my faithful Germain?”

“You see, sir,” concluded Albert, “Claudine Lerouge would alone render all your efforts useless.”

“Ah, no!” cried the count; “I shall find some expedient.”

The obstinate old gentleman was not willing to give in to this argument, the very clearness of which blinded him.  The pride of his blood paralyzed his usual practical good sense.  To acknowledge that he was conquered humiliated him, and seemed to him unworthy of himself.  He did not remember to have met during his long career an invincible resistance or an absolute impediment.  He was like all men of imagination, who fall in love with their projects, and who expect them to succeed on all occasions, as if wishing hard was all that was necessary to change their dreams into realities.

Albert this time broke the silence, which threatened to be prolonged.

“I see, sir,” he said, “that you fear, above all things, the publicity of this sad history; the possible scandal renders you desperate.  But, unless we yield, the scandal will be terrible.  There will be a trial which will be the talk of all Europe.  The newspapers will print the facts, accompanied by heavens knows what comments of their own.  Our name, however the trial results, will appear in all the papers of the world.  This might be borne, if we were sure of succeeding; but we are bound to lose, my father, we shall lose.  Then think of the exposure! think of the dishonour branded upon us by public opinion.”

“I think,” said the count, “that you can have neither respect nor affection for me, when you speak in that way.”

“It is my duty, sir, to point out to you the evils I see threatening, and which there is yet time to shun.  M. Noel Gerdy is your legitimate son, recognize him, acknowledge his just pretensions, and receive him.  We can make the change very quietly.  It is easy to account for it, through a mistake of the nurse, Claudine Lerouge, for instance.  All parties being agreeable, there can be no trouble about it.  What is to prevent the new Viscount de Commarin from quitting Paris, and disappearing for a time?  He might travel about Europe for four or five years; by the end of that time, all will be forgotten, and no one will remember me.”