To crown my misery, a movement that I made caused the
knife which I had taken as bedfellow to fall at M. de Mauprat's feet. He
picked it up, looked at it, and then at myself with extreme surprise. I
turned as red as fire and stammered out I know not what. I expected he
would reprove me for this insult to his hospitality. However, he was too
polite to insist upon a more complete explanation. He quietly placed the
knife on the mantel-piece and, returning to me, spoke as follows:
"Bernard, I now know that I owe to you the life that I hold dearest in
the world. All my own life shall be devoted to giving you proofs of my
gratitude and esteem. My daughter also is sacredly indebted to you. You
need, then, have no anxiety about your future. I know what persecution
and vengeance you exposed yourself to in coming to us; but I know, too,
from what a frightful existence my friendship and devotion will be able
to deliver you. You are an orphan, and I have no son. Will you have me
for your father?"
I stared at the chevalier with wild eyes. I could not believe my ears.
All feeling within me seemed paralyzed by astonishment and timidity. I
was unable to answer a word. The chevalier himself evidently felt
some astonishment; he had not expected to find a nature so brutishly
ill-conditioned.
"Come," he said; "I hope that you will grow accustomed to us. At all
events, shake hands, to show that you trust me.
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