Roncherolle took the letter with a trembling hand and broke the seal. He instantly recognized the writing of the man who had been his friend, and his eyes, with feverish eagerness, read these lines: "You were very guilty toward me. But God forgives the penitent man, and I should not be more inexorable than He. I give you your daughter; you have fought for her honor, and that act may well have earned pardon for your desertion of the child. "Comte de Brevanne." As he read, Roncherolle became more excited; then he looked at Violette; and when he had finished the letter, his eyes rested upon the girl with an expression of such pure affection, that she was greatly moved, and faltered: "What is it, monsieur? That letter was supposed to give you pleasure." "Ah! it makes me very, very happy, my dear child; so happy that I dare not as yet believe in my happiness. It speaks to me of my daughter, whom I had lost, abandoned, and of whose fate I knew nothing!" "You abandoned your daughter?" "Yes.--Ah! I dared not confess that to you; one does not like to blush before those who show affection for one; but you, Violette, tell me, in pity's name, do you know nothing about your parents? Have you nothing of theirs, no token which might identify you?" "Excuse me, monsieur; if I have not spoken to you about it before, it is because Monsieur Malberg forbade me to do so; but to-day he said to me: 'Have no more secrets from Monsieur de Roncherolle;' so I can tell you everything." "Speak, speak!" "In the first place, they gave me the name of Evelina de Paulausky; and then they kept this handkerchief for me, which belonged to my mother--see." "Enough! enough!" murmured Roncherolle, holding out his arms to Violette. "Dear child, if you can forgive me for deserting you, come to your father's arms!" "You, my father! my heart had divined it!" cried Violette, throwing herself into Roncherolle's arms, where he held her for a long time, against his heart. But such violent emotion brought on a fresh attack, and the invalid, who longed to say a thousand things to his daughter, had not the strength to do it; she was obliged to entreat him to be calm and to rest. After some time, Roncherolle, feeling more at ease, motioned to Violette to approach his bed, and bade her tell him all that he whom she still called Monsieur Malberg had done for her. The girl concealed nothing from her father, neither the bouquets which she had carried to Madame de Grangeville, nor the last interview she had had with that lady. And Roncherolle raised his eyes to heaven, murmuring: "She told her that she did not know her mother!" Then Violette informed her father that Georget's patron had come to see him during his last illness, when he was destitute; and she added: "It was the very next day that you received that letter with money; I am very sure myself that it was he who sent it."