'The Valancourts, Counts Duvarney,' replied Mons. Bonnac.
The emotion of Mons. Du Pont, when he discovered the generous benefactor
of his friend to be the rival of his love, can only be imagined; but,
having overcome his first surprise, he dissipated the apprehensions of
Mons. Bonnac by acquainting him, that Valancourt was at liberty, and had
lately been in Languedoc; after which his affection for Emily prompted
him to make some enquiries, respecting the conduct of his rival, during
his stay at Paris, of which M. Bonnac appeared to be well informed. The
answers he received were such as convinced him, that Valancourt had been
much misrepresented, and, painful as was the sacrifice, he formed the
just design of relinquishing his pursuit of Emily to a lover, who, it
now appeared, was not unworthy of the regard, with which she honoured
him.
The conversation of Mons. Bonnac discovered, that Valancourt, some
time after his arrival at Paris, had been drawn into the snares, which
determined vice had spread for him, and that his hours had been chiefly
divided between the parties of the captivating Marchioness and those
gaming assemblies, to which the envy, or the avarice, of his brother
officers had spared no art to seduce him. In these parties he had lost
large sums, in efforts to recover small ones, and to such losses the
Count De Villefort and Mons. Henri had been frequent witnesses. His
resources were, at length, exhausted; and the Count, his brother,
exasperated by his conduct, refused to continue the supplies necessary
to his present mode of life, when Valancourt, in consequence of
accumulated debts, was thrown into confinement, where his brother
suffered him to remain, in the hope, that punishment might effect a
reform of conduct, which had not yet been confirmed by long habit.
In the solitude of his prison, Valancourt had leisure for reflection,
and cause for repentance; here, too, the image of Emily, which, amidst
the dissipation of the city had been obscured, but never obliterated
from his heart, revived with all the charms of innocence and beauty, to
reproach him for having sacrificed his happiness and debased his talents
by pursuits, which his nobler faculties would formerly have taught him
to consider were as tasteless as they were degrading. But, though his
passions had been seduced, his heart was not depraved, nor had habit
riveted the chains, that hung heavily on his conscience; and, as he
retained that energy of will, which was necessary to burst them, he, at
length, emancipated himself from the bondage of vice, but not till after
much effort and severe suffering.
Being released by his brother from the prison, where he had witnessed
the affecting meeting between Mons. Bonnac and his wife, with whom he
had been for some time acquainted, the first use of his liberty formed a
striking instance of his humanity and his rashness; for with nearly all
the money, just received from his brother, he went to a gaming-house,
and gave it as a last stake for the chance of restoring his friend to
freedom, and to his afflicted family. The event was fortunate, and,
while he had awaited the issue of this momentous stake, he made a solemn
vow never again to yield to the destructive and fascinating vice of
gaming.