As for that miserable boy who has wounded me to death, I will not have
him sleep at Presles; send him to the inn; I will not answer for my
own temper if I see him."

"I do not deserve such gentleness, monseigneur," said Moreau, with
tears in his eyes. "Yes, you are right; if I had been utterly
dishonest I should now be worth five hundred thousand francs instead
of half that sum. I offer to give you an account of my fortune, with
all its details. But let me tell you, monseigneur, that in talking of
you with Madame Clapart, it was never in derision; but, on the
contrary, to deplore your state, and to ask her for certain remedies,
not used by physicians, but known to the common people. I spoke of
your feelings before the boy, who was in his bed and, as I supposed,
asleep (it seems he must have been awake and listening to us), with
the utmost affection and respect. Alas! fate wills that indiscretions
be punished like crimes. But while accepting the results of your just
anger, I wish you to know what actually took place. It was, indeed,
from heart to heart that I spoke of you to Madame Clapart. As for my
wife, I have never said one word of these things--"

"Enough," said the count, whose conviction was now complete; "we are
not children. All is now irrevocable. Put your affairs and mine in
order. You can stay in the pavilion until October. Monsieur and Madame
de Reybert will lodge for the present in the chateau; endeavor to keep
on terms with them, like well-bred persons who hate each other, but
still keep up appearances."

The count and Moreau went downstairs; Moreau white as the count's
hair, the count himself calm and dignified.