“No,” said Noel, “no, M. Tabaret; Albert has not public opinion for him.  We are sharper than that in France, as you know.  When a poor devil is arrested, entirely innocent, perhaps, of the crime charged against him, we are always ready to throw stones at him.  We keep all our pity for him, who, without doubt guilty, appears before the court of assize.  As long as the justice hesitates, we side with the prosecution against the prisoner.  The moment it is proved that the man is a villain, all our sympathies are in his favour.  That is public opinion.  You understand, however, that it affects me but little.  I despise it to such an extent, that if, as I dare still hope, Albert is not released, I will defend him.  Yes, I have told the Count de Commarin, my father, as much.  I will be his counsel, and I will save him.”

Gladly would the old man have thrown himself on Noel’s neck.  He longed to say to him:  “We will save him together.”  But he restrained himself.  Would not the advocate despise him, if he told him his secret!  He resolved, however, to reveal all should it become necessary, or should Albert’s position become worse.  For the time being, he contented himself with strongly approving his young friend.

“Bravo! my boy,” said he; “you have a noble heart.  I feared to see you spoiled by wealth and rank; pardon me.  You will remain, I see, what you have always been in your more humble position.  But, tell me, you have, then, seen your father, the count?”

Now, for the first time, Noel seemed to notice the nun’s eyes, which, lighted by eager curiosity, glittered in the shadow like carbuncles.  With a look, he drew the old man’s attention to her, and said:  “I have seen him; and everything is arranged to my satisfaction.  I will tell you all, in detail, by-and-by, when we are more at ease.  By this bedside, I am almost ashamed of my happiness.”

M. Tabaret was obliged to content himself with this reply and this promise.  Seeing that he would learn nothing that evening, he spoke of going to bed, declaring himself tired out by what he had had to do during the day.  Noel did not ask him to stop.  He was expecting, he said, Madame Gerdy’s brother, who had been sent for several times, but who was not at home.  He hardly knew how he could again meet this brother, he added:  he did not yet know what conduct he ought to pursue.  Should he tell him all?  It would only increase his grief.  On the other hand, silence would oblige him to play a difficult part.  The old man advised him to say nothing; he could explain all later on.

“What a fine fellow Noel is!” murmured old Tabaret, as he regained his apartments as quietly as possible.  He had been absent from home twenty-four hours; and he fully expected a formidable scene with his housekeeper.  Mannette was decidedly out of temper, and declared once for all, that she would certainly seek a new place if her master did not change his conduct.