The door of the courtyard was open, but being still under the influence
of the wine he had drunk, he failed to notice a confused group of
servants and neighbors standing before the stable-doors. Upon seeing
him, these people became suddenly silent, and exchanged looks of sympathy
and compassion. Camors occupied the second floor of the hotel; and
ascending the stairs, found himself suddenly facing his father's valet.
The man was very pale, and held a sealed paper, which he extended with a
trembling hand.

"What is it, Joseph?" asked Camors.

"A letter which--which Monsieur le Comte wrote for you before he left."

"Before he left! my father is gone, then? But--where--how? What, the
devil! why do you weep?"

Unable to speak, the servant handed him the paper. Camors seized it and
tore it open.

"Good God! there is blood! what is this!" He read the first words--
"My son, life is a burden to me. I leave it--" and fell fainting to the
floor.

The poor lad loved his father, notwithstanding the past.

They carried him to his chamber.