“The facts are these,” resumed the count.  “Yesterday, after having spoken to me of these cursed letters, Albert began to set a trap to discover the truth,—­for he still had doubts, Noel Gerdy not having obtained the complete correspondence.  An animated discussion arose between us.  He declared his resolution to give way to Noel.  I, on the other hand, was resolved to compromise the matter, cost what it might.  Albert dared to oppose me.  All my efforts to convert him to my views were useless.  Vainly I tried to touch those chords in his breast which I supposed the most sensitive.  He firmly repeated his intention to retire in spite of me, declaring himself satisfied, if I would consent to allow him a modest competence.  I again attempted to shake him, by showing him that his marriage, so ardently looked forward to for two years, would be broken off by this blow.  He replied that he felt sure of the constancy of his betrothed, Mademoiselle d’Arlange.”

This name fell like a thunderbolt upon the ears of the investigating magistrate.  He jumped in his chair.  Feeling that his face was turning crimson, he took up a large bundle of papers from his table, and, to hide his emotion, he raised them to his face, as though trying to decipher an illegible word.  He began to understand the difficult duty with which he was charged.  He knew that he was troubled like a child, having neither his usual calmness nor foresight.  He felt that he might commit the most serious blunders.  Why had he undertaken this investigation?  Could he preserve himself quite free from bias?  Did he think his will would be perfectly impartial?  Gladly would he put off to another time the further examination of the count; but could he?  His conscience told him that this would be another blunder.  He renewed, then, the painful examination.

“Sir,” said he, “the sentiments expressed by the viscount are very fine, without doubt; but did he not mention Widow Lerouge?”

“Yes,” replied the count, who appeared suddenly to brighten, as by the remembrance of some unnoticed circumstances,—­“yes, certainly.”

“He must have shown you that this woman’s testimony rendered a struggle with M. Gerdy impossible.”

“Precisely; sir; and, aside from the question of duty, it was upon that that he based his refusal to follow my wishes.”

“It will be necessary, count, for you to repeat to me very exactly all that passed between the viscount and yourself.  Appeal, then, I beseech you, to your memory, and try to repeat his own words as nearly as possible.”

M. de Commarin could do so without much difficulty.  For some little time, a salutary reaction had taken place within him.  His blood, excited by the persistence of the examination, moved in its accustomed course.  His brain cleared itself.

The scene of the previous evening was admirably presented to his memory, even to the most insignificant details.  The sound of Albert’s voice was still in his ears; he saw again his expressive gestures.  As his story advanced, alive with clearness and precision, M. Daburon’s conviction became more confirmed.