We will decide what's to be done afterwards." "Three weeks ago," commenced Noel, "searching for some old documents, I opened Madame Gerdy's secretary.

Accidentally I displaced one of the small shelves: some papers tumbled out, and a packet of letters fell in front of my eyes.

A mechanical impulse, which I cannot explain, prompted me to untie the string, and, impelled by an invincible curiosity, I read the first letter which came to my hand." "You did wrong," remarked M.Tabaret.
"Be it so; anyhow I read.

At the end of ten lines, I was convinced that these letters were from my father, whose name, Madame Gerdy, in spite of my prayers, had always hidden from me.

You can understand my emotion.
I carried off the packet, shut myself up in this room, and devoured the correspondence from beginning to end." "And you have been cruelly punished my poor boy!" "It is true; but who in my position could have resisted?
These letters have given me great pain; but they afford the proof of what I just now told you." "You have at least preserved these letters ?" "I have them here, M.Tabaret," replied Noel, "and, that you may understand the case in which I have requested your advice, I am going to read them to you." The advocate opened one of the drawers of his bureau, pressed an invisible spring, and from a hidden receptacle constructed in the thick upper shelf, he drew out a bundle of letters.