"Father, father! in Heaven's name," exclaimed the young man, "what are these weapons for?"
"Maximilian," replied Morrel, looking fixedly at his son, "you are a man, and a man of honor. Come, and I will explain to you."
And with a firm step Morrel went up to his cabinet, whilst Maximilian followed him, trembling as he went. Morrel opened the door, and closed it behind his son; then, crossing the anteroom, went to his desk, on which he placed the pistols, and pointed with his finger to an open ledger. In this ledger was made out an exact balance-sheet of affairs. Morrel had to pay, within half an hour, two hundred and eighty-seven thousand five hundred francs. All he possessed was fifteen thousand two hundred and fifty-seven franes.
"Read!" said Morrel.
The young man was overwhelmed as he read. Morrel said not a word. What could he say? What need he add to such a desperate proof in figures?
"And have you done all that is possible, father, to meet this disastrous result?" asked the young man, after a moment's pause.
"I have," replied Morrel.
"You have no money coming in on which you can rely?"
"None."
"You have exhausted every resource?"
"All."
"And in half an hour," said Maximilian, in a gloomy voice, "our name is dishonored!"
"Blood washes out dishonor," said Morrel.
"You are right, father; I understand you."
Then extending his hand toward one of the pistols, he said, "There is one for you and one for me — thanks!"
Morrel checked his hand. "Your mother — your sister! Who will support them?"
A shudder ran through the young man's frame. "Father," he said, "do you reflect that you are bidding me to live?"
"Yes, I do bid you," answered Morrel; "it is your duty. You have a calm, strong mind, Maximilian. Maximilian, you are no ordinary man. I desire nothing; I command nothing; I only say to you, examine my position as if it were your own, and then judge for yourself."
The young man reflected an instant; then an expression of sublime resignation appeared in his eyes, and with a slow and sad gesture he took off his two epaulettes, the marks of his rank.
"Be it so, then, my father," he said, extending his hand Morrel. "Die in peace, my father; I will live."
