"I wished too," resumed he, "to save some portion of our property, for your insatiable extravagance swallowed up all like a bottomless abyss.

At last your trades-people, believing me to be ruined, refused you credit, and this saved me.

I had my daughter to think of, and have gathered together a rich dowry for her, and yet----" he hesitated, and ceased speaking for a moment.
"And yet," repeated Madame de Mussidan.
"I have never kissed her," he burst forth with a fresh and terrible explosion of wrath, "without feeling a hideous doubt as to whether she was really my child." This was more than the Countess could endure.
"Enough," she cried, "enough! I have been guilty, Octave; but not so guilty as you imagine." "Why do you venture to defend yourself ?" "Because it is my duty to guard Sabine." "You should have thought of this earlier," answered the Count with a sneer.

"You should have moulded her mind--have taught her what was noble and good, and have perused the unsullied pages of the book of her young heart." In the deepest agitation the Countess answered,-- "Ah, Octave, why did you not speak of this sooner, if you knew all; but I will now tell you everything." By an inconceivable error of judgment the Count corrected her speech.
"Spare us both," said he.

"If I have broken through the silence that I have maintained for many a year, it is because I knew that no word you could utter would touch my heart." Feeling that all hope had fled, Madame de Mussidan fell backward upon the couch, while Sabine, unable to listen to any more terrible revelations, had crept into her own chamber.