He had cursed her; at this moment he pardoned her.
True, she had deceived him; but did he not owe to her the only years of happiness he had ever known?
Had she not formed all the poetry of his youth?
Had he experienced, since leaving her, one single hour of joy or forgetfulness?
In his present frame of mind, his heart retained only happy memories, like a vase which, once filled with precious perfumes, retains the odour until it is destroyed.
"Poor woman!" he murmured.
He sighed deeply.

Three or four times his eyelids trembled, as if a tear were about to fall.

Albert watched him with anxious curiosity.

This was the first time since the viscount had grown to man's estate that he had surprised in his father's countenance other emotion than ambition or pride, triumphant or defeated.

But M.de Commarin was not the man to yield long to sentiment.
"You have not told me, viscount," he said, "who sent you that messenger of misfortune." "He came in person, sir, not wishing, he told me to mix any others up in this sad affair.