“Permit me,” interrupted Noel imperiously.  “I do not choose to kill myself; I wish to save my life, if possible.  Supply me with the means of escape; and I promise you that I will sooner die than be captured.  I say, supply me with means, for I have not twenty francs in the world.  My last thousand franc note was nearly all gone the day when—­you understand me.  There isn’t sufficient money at home to give my mother a decent burial.  Therefore, I say, give me some money.”

“Never!”

“Then I will deliver myself up to justice, and you will see what will happen to the name you hold so dear!”

The count, mad with rage, rushed to his table for a pistol.  Noel placed himself before him.

“Oh, do not let us have any struggle,” said he coldly; “I am the strongest.”

M. de Commarin recoiled.  By thus speaking of the trial, of the scandal and of the disgrace, the advocate had made an impression upon him.

For a moment hesitating between love for his name and his burning desire to see this wretch punished, the old nobleman stood undecided.

Finally his feeling for his rank triumphed.

“Let us end this,” he said in a tremulous voice, filled with the utmost contempt; “let us end this disgraceful scene.  What do you demand of me?”

“I have already told you, money, all that you have here.  But make up your mind quickly.”

On the previous Saturday the count had withdrawn from his bankers the sum he had destined for fitting up the apartments of him whom he thought was his legitimate child.

“I have eighty thousand francs here,” he replied.

“That’s very little,” said the advocate; “but give them to me.  I will tell you though that I had counted on you for five hundred thousand francs.  If I succeed in escaping my pursuers, you must hold at my disposal the balance, four hundred and twenty thousand francs.  Will you pledge yourself to give them to me at the first demand?  I will find some means of sending for them, without any risk to myself.  At that price, you need never fear hearing of me again.”

By way of reply, the count opened a little iron chest imbedded in the wall, and took out a roll of bank notes, which he threw at Noel’s feet.

An angry look flashed in the advocate’s eyes, as he took one step towards his father.

“Oh! take care!” he said threateningly; “people who, like me, have nothing to lose are dangerous.  I can yet give myself up, and——­”

He stooped down, however, and picked up the notes.

“Will you give me your word,” he continued, “to let me have the rest whenever I ask for them?”

“Yes.”

“Then I am going.  Do not fear, I will be faithful to our compact, they shall not take me alive.  Adieu, my father! in all this you are the true criminal, but you alone will go unpunished.  Ah, heaven is not just.  I curse you!”

When, an hour later, the servants entered the count’s room, they found him stretched on the floor with his face against the carpet, and showing scarcely a sign of life.