Now that her birth is made known it is not fitting that my
daughter should return to Paris with you. I thank you, though it
costs me the hope of perpetuating my race, for having spared my son a
disgraceful action--what do I say? An abominable crime. I would rather
have a bloodstain on my escutcheon than a dishonourable blot. Since
Vallombreuse was infamous in his conduct, you have done well to kill
him. You have acted like a true gentleman, which I am assured that you
are, in chivalrously protecting weakness, innocence and virtue. You
are nobly in the right. That my daughter's honour has been preserved
unstained, I owe to you--and it compensates me for the loss of my
son--at least my reason tells me that it should do so; but the father's
heart rebels, and unjust ideas of revenge might arise, which I should
find it difficult to conquer and set at rest. Therefore you had better
go your way now, and whatever the result may be I will not pursue or
molest you. I will try to forget that a terrible necessity turned your
sword against my son's life."
"My lord," said de Sigognac, with profound respect, "I feel so keenly
for your grief as a father, that I would have accepted any reproaches,
no matter how bitter and unjust, from you, without one word of protest
or feeling of resentment; even though I cannot reproach myself for my
share in this disastrous conflict.
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