"Several reasons, too long to tell you. I leave you now." "You leave without seeing Florestan?" "This interview would be too painful for me--you must comprehend. I only braved it in the hopes of obtaining some information about Madame de Fermont, wishing to neglect no means to find her. Now adieu!" "Oh, you are without pity!" "Do you not know?" "I know that your son has never had more need of your counsels." "Is he not rich--happy?" "Yes; but he does not know mankind. Blindly prodigal, because he is confiding and generous--in everything, everywhere, and always truly noble. I fear he is abused. If you knew what a noble heart he has! I have never dared to lecture him on the subject of his expense and extravagance; in the first place, because I am at least as foolish as he is; and then for other reasons; but you on the contrary could--" Madame de Lucenay did not finish; suddenly she heard the voice of Florestan de Saint Remy. He entered precipitately into the cabinet adjoining the saloon. After having quickly shut the door, he said, in an agitated voice, to some one who accompanied him, "But it is impossible!" "But I repeat to you," answered the clear and piercing voice of M. Badinot, "I repeat to you, that, without this, in four hours you will be arrested. For if he has not this money, our man will go and make a complaint to the attorney-general, and you know the penalty of a forgery like this--the galleys, my poor lord!" It is impossible to describe the look which Madame de Lucenay and the father of Florestan exchanged on hearing these terrible words. CHAPTER XXIX. FATHER AND SON. On hearing these fearful words addressed to his son by Badinot, the count changed color, and clung to a chair for support. His venerable and respected name dishonored by a man whom he had reason to doubt was his son? His first feeling overcome, the angry looks of the old man, and a threatening gesture which he made as he advanced toward the study revealed a resolution so alarming that Madame de Lucenay caught him by the hand, stopped him, and said, in a low tone, with the most profound conviction, "He is innocent; I swear to you! Listen in silence." The count stood still; he wished to believe what the duchess had said was true. She, on her part, was persuaded of his honesty. To obtain new sacrifices from this woman, so blindly generous--sacrifices which alone had saved him from the threats of Jacques Ferrand--the viscount had sworn to Madame de Lucenay, that, dupe of a scoundrel from whom he had received in payment the forged bill, he ran the risk of being regarded as an accomplice of the forger, having himself put it in circulation. Madame de Lucenay knew that the viscount was imprudent, prodigal, and careless; but never for a moment had she supposed him capable of an infamous action, not even the slightest indiscretion.