"He lost her a long time since. It is on that account that my lord, on his coming of age, has enjoyed the fortune of his mother. So you plainly see, my dear Edward, that as regards inheritance, my lord has nothing, or almost nothing, to expect from his father." "Who besides must detest him?" "He would never see him after the fatal discovery, persuaded that he is the son of the Pole." The conversation of the two personages was interrupted by a footman of gigantic size, carefully powdered, although it was hardly eleven o'clock. "His lordship has rung twice," said the giant. Boyer appeared distressed at this neglect; he arose precipitately, and followed the servant with as much eagerness and respect as if he had not been the proprietor of the mansion of his master. CHAPTER XXVIII. THE OLD COUNT DE SAINT REMY. Two hours had passed since Boyer had gone to attend the viscount, when the father of the last mentioned knocked at the gate of the house in the Rue de Chaillot. The Count de Saint Remy was a man of tall stature, still active and vigorous, notwithstanding his age; the almost copper color of his skin contrasted strangely with the silvery whiteness of his beard and hair; his heavy, still black eyebrows overshadowed piercing but sunken eyes. Although, from a kind of misanthropy, he wore clothes quite rusty, there was in his whole appearance that which commanded respect. The door of his son's house flew open, and he entered. A porter in a grand livery of brown and silver, profusely powdered, and wearing silk stockings, appeared on the threshold of an elegant lodge, which had as much resemblance to the smoky den of the Pipelets as a cobbler's stall could have to the sumptuous shop of a fashionable "emporium." "M. de Saint Remy?" demanded the viscount, in a low tone. The porter, instead of replying, examined with much contempt the white beard, the threadbare coat, and the old hat of the stranger, who held in his hand a large cane. "M. de Saint Remy?" repeated the count, impatiently, shocked at the impertinent examination of the porter. "Not at home." So saying, Pipelet's rival drew the cord, and with a significant gesture, invited the unknown to retire. "I will wait," said the count, and he passed on. "Stay, friend! one does not enter that way into houses!" cried the porter, running after and taking him by the arm. "How, scoundrel!" answered the old man, raising his cane; "you dare to touch me!" "I will dare something else, if you do not walk out at once. I have told you that my lord was out, so walk off." At this moment, Boyer, attracted by the sound of voices, made his appearance. "What is the matter?" demanded he. "M. Boyer, this man will absolutely enter, although I have told him that my lord is out." "Let us put a stop to this," replied the count, addressing Boyer; "I wish to see my son---if he has gone out, I will wait."