"Well, my dear Hulot," said the Prince, holding out the newspapers to
his old friend, "we have saved appearances, you see.--Read."
Marshal Hulot laid the papers on his comrade's table, and held out to
him the two hundred thousand francs.
"Here is the money of which my brother robbed the State," said he.
"What madness!" cried the Minister. "It is impossible," he said into
the speaking-trumpet handed to him by the Marshal, "to manage this
restitution. We should be obliged to declare your brother's dishonest
dealings, and we have done everything to hide them."
"Do what you like with the money; but the family shall not owe one sou
of its fortune to a robbery on the funds of the State," said the
Count.
"I will take the King's commands in the matter. We will discuss it no
further," replied the Prince, perceiving that it would be impossible
to conquer the old man's sublime obstinacy on the point.
"Good-bye, Cottin," said the old soldier, taking the Prince's hand. "I
feel as if my soul were frozen--"
Then, after going a step towards the door, he turned round, looked at
the Prince, and seeing that he was deeply moved, he opened his arms to
clasp him in them; the two old soldiers embraced each other.
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