"Pardon me, Father, directly I have read it you shall have that pleasure,--not till then!" and, as I said this, my eye falling upon the letter discovered my own name written in two places. My suspicions were aroused. I raised my eyes to the spot where the messenger had stood, with the view of addressing some question to him respecting his employer, when, to my surprise, I perceived he was already gone; I had no time, however, to follow him. "Boy," said the Abbe, gasping for breath, and still seizing me with his lean, bony hand,--"boy, give me that letter instantly; I charge you not to disobey me." "You forget yourself, Sir," said I, endeavouring to shake him off, "you forget yourself: there is no longer between us the distinction of pupil and teacher; and if you have not yet learned the respect due to my station, suffer me to tell you that it is time you should." "Give me that letter, I beseech you," said Montreuil, changing his voice from anger to supplication; "I ask your pardon for my violence: the letter does not concern you but me; there is a secret in those lines which you see are in my handwriting that implicates my personal safety. Give it me, my dear, dear son: your own honour, if not your affection for me, demands that you should." I was staggered. His violence had confirmed my suspicions, but his gentleness weakened them. "Besides," thought I, "the handwriting /is his/; and even if my life depended upon reading the letter of another, I do not think my honour would suffer me to do so against his consent." A thought struck me,-- "Will you swear," said I, "that this letter does not concern me?" "Solemnly," answered the Abbe, raising his eyes. "Will you swear that I am not even mentioned in it?" "Upon peril of my soul, I will." "Liar! traitor! perjured blasphemer!" cried I, in an inexpressible rage, "look here, and here!" and I pointed out to the priest various lines in which my name legibly and frequently occurred. A change came over Montreuil's face: he released my arm and staggered back against the wainscot; but recovering his composure instantaneously, he said, "I forgot, my son--I forgot--your name is mentioned, it is true, but with honourable eulogy, that is all." "Bravo, honest Father!" cried I, losing my fury in admiring surprise at his address,--"bravo! However, if that be all, you can have no objection to allow me to read the lines in which my name occurs; your benevolence cannot refuse me such a gratification as the sight of your written panegyric!" "Count Devereux," said the Abbe, sternly, while his dark face worked with suppressed passion, "this is trifling with me, and I warn you not to push my patience too far. I /will/ have that letter, or--" he ceased abruptly, and touched the hilt of his sword. "Dare you threaten me?" I said, and the natural fierceness of my own disposition, deepened by vague and strong suspicions of some treachery designed against me, spoke in the tones of my voice.