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THE COUNT OF MONTE-CRISTO.
157
which a father's untarnished name inspires a son. Oh! Beauchamp, Beauchamp! how shall I now approach mine? Shall I draw back my forehead from his embrace, or withhold my hand from his? I am the most wretched of men. Ah! my mother, my poor mother!" said Albert,
gazing through his tears at his mother's portrait; "if you know this, how much must you suffer?"
"Come," said Beauchamp, taking both his hands, "take courage, my friend."
"But how came that first note inserted in your journal? Some unknown enemy, an invisible foe has done this."
