have no future to look forward to. For me the grave opens when I pass the threshold of this house.”
“I will fulfil all your wishes, my dear mother,” said the young man.
“Yes, I share your hopes; the anger of Heaven will not pursue us, since you are pure and I am innocent. But, since our resolution is formed, let us act promptly. M. de Morcerf went out about half an hour ago; the opportunity is favorable to avoid an explanation.”
“I am ready, my son,” said Mercédès.
Albert ran to fetch a carriage. He recollected that there was a small furnished house to let in the Rue des Saints-Pères, where his mother would find a humble but decent lodging, and thither he intended conducting the countess.
As the carriage stopped at the door, and Albert was alighting, a man approached and gave him a letter.
Albert recognized the bearer.
“From the count,” said Bertuccio.
Albert took the letter, opened, and read it, then looked round for Bertuccio, but he was gone.
He returned to Mercédès with tears in his eyes and heaving breast, and without uttering a word he gave her the letter.
Mercédès read:
Albert —While showing you that I have discovered your plans, I hope also to convince you of my delicacy. You are free, you leave the count’s house, and you take