Claire appeared to him like a bearer of happiness and hope. During the last three days, he had discovered how great was his affection for Albert. He had loved him tenderly, for he had never been able to discard him, in spite of his frightful suspicions as to his paternity. For three days, the knowledge of the crime imputed to his unhappy son, the thought of the punishment which awaited him, had nearly killed the father. And after all he was innocent! No more shame, no more scandalous trial, no more stains upon the escutcheon; the name of Commarin would not be heard at the assizes. “But, then, mademoiselle,” asked the count, “are they going to release him?” “Alas! sir, I demanded that they should at once set him at liberty. It is just, is it not, since he is not guilty? But the magistrate replied that it was not possible; that he was not the master; that Albert’s fate depended on many others. It was then that I resolved to come to you for aid.” “Can I then do something?” “I at least hope so. I am only a poor girl, very ignorant; and I know no one in the world. I do not know what can be done to get him released from prison. There ought, however, to be some means for obtaining justice. Will you not try all that can be done, sir, you, who are his father?” “Yes,” replied M. de Commarin quickly, “yes, and without losing a minute.” Since Albert’s arrest, the count had been plunged in a dull stupor. In his profound grief, seeing only ruin and disaster about him, he had done nothing to shake off this mental paralysis. Ordinarily very active, he now sat all day long without moving. He seemed to enjoy a condition which prevented his feeling the immensity of his misfortune. Claire’s voice sounded in his ear like the resurrection trumpet. The frightful darkness was dispelled; he saw a glimmering in the horizon; he recovered the energy of his youth. “Let us go,” he said. Suddenly the radiance in his face changed to sadness, mixed with anger. “But where,” he asked. “At what door shall we knock with any hope of success? In the olden times, I would have sought the king. But to-day! Even the emperor himself cannot interfere with the law. He will tell me to await the decision of the tribunals, that he can do nothing. Wait! And Albert is counting the minutes in mortal agony! We shall certainly have justice; but to obtain it promptly is an art taught in schools that I have not frequented.” “Let us try, at least, sir,” persisted Claire. “Let us seek out judges, generals, ministers, any one. Only lead me to them. I will speak; and you shall see if we do not succeed.” The count took Claire’s little hands between his own, and held them a moment pressing them with paternal tenderness.