“I understand, I understand.”

“I had passed an inspection; now I had to undergo an examination.  The valet desired to be informed who I was, whence I came, what was my profession, what I wanted and all the rest.  I answered simply, that, quite unknown to the viscount, I desired five minutes’ conversation with him on a matter of importance.  He left me, requesting me to sit down and wait.  I had waited more than a quarter of an hour, when he reappeared.  His master graciously deigned to receive me.”

It was easy to perceive that the advocate’s reception rankled in his breast, and that he considered it an insult.  He could not forgive Albert his lackeys and his valet.  He forgot the words of the illustrious duke, who said, “I pay my lackeys to be insolent, to save myself the trouble and ridicule of being so.”  Old Tabaret was surprised at his young friend’s display of bitterness, in speaking of these trivial details.

“What narrow-mindedness,” thought he, “for a man of such intelligence!  Can it be true that the arrogance of lackeys is the secret of the people’s hatred of an amiable and polite aristocracy?”

“I was ushered into a small apartment,” continued Noel, “simply furnished, the only ornaments of which were weapons.  These, ranged against the walls, were of all times and countries.  Never have I seen in so small a space so many muskets, pistols, swords, sabres, and foils.  One might have imagined himself in a fencing master’s arsenal.”

The weapon used by Widow Lerouge’s assassin naturally recurred to the old fellow’s memory.

“The viscount,” said Noel, speaking slowly, “was half lying on a divan when I entered.  He was dressed in a velvet jacket and loose trousers of the same material, and had around his neck an immense white silk scarf.  I do not cherish any resentment against this young man; he has never to his knowledge injured me:  he was in ignorance of our father’s crime; I am therefore able to speak of him with justice.  He is handsome, bears himself well, and nobly carries the name which does not belong to him.  He is about my height, of the same dark complexion, and would resemble me, perhaps, if he did not wear a beard.  Only he looks five or six years younger; but this is readily explained, he has neither worked, struggled, nor suffered.  He is one of the fortunate ones who arrive without having to start, or who traverse life’s road on such soft cushions that they are never injured by the jolting of their carriage.  On seeing me, he arose and saluted me graciously.”

“You must have been dreadfully excited,” remarked old Tabaret.

“Less than I am at this moment.  Fifteen preparatory days of mental torture exhausts one’s emotions.  I answered the question I saw upon his lips.  ‘Sir,’ said I, ’you do not know me; but that is of little consequence.  I come to you, charged with a very grave, a very sad mission, which touches the honour of the name you bear.’  Without doubt he did not believe me, for, in an impertinent tone, he asked me, ’Shall you be long?’ I answered simply, ‘Yes.’”