Having restored the venerable Mons. Bonnac to his rejoicing family, he
hurried from Paris to Estuviere; and, in the delight of having made the
wretched happy, forgot, for a while, his own misfortunes. Soon, however,
he remembered, that he had thrown away the fortune, without which he
could never hope to marry Emily; and life, unless passed with her,
now scarcely appeared supportable; for her goodness, refinement, and
simplicity of heart, rendered her beauty more enchanting, if possible,
to his fancy, than it had ever yet appeared. Experience had taught
him to understand the full value of the qualities, which he had before
admired, but which the contrasted characters he had seen in the world
made him now adore; and these reflections, increasing the pangs of
remorse and regret, occasioned the deep dejection, that had accompanied
him even into the presence of Emily, of whom he considered himself no
longer worthy
. To the ignominy of having received pecuniary obligations
from the Marchioness Chamfort, or any other lady of intrigue, as the
Count De Villefort had been informed, or of having been engaged in the
depredating schemes of gamesters, Valancourt had never submitted; and
these were some of such scandals as often mingle with truth, against the
unfortunate. Count De Villefort had received them from authority which
he had no reason to doubt, and which the imprudent conduct he had
himself witnessed in Valancourt, had certainly induced him the more
readily to believe.
Being such as Emily could not name to the Chevalier,
he had no opportunity of refuting them; and, when he confessed
himself to be unworthy of her esteem, he little suspected, that he was
confirming to her the most dreadful calumnies. Thus the mistake had been
mutual, and had remained so, when Mons. Bonnac explained the conduct of
his generous, but imprudent young friend to Du Pont, who, with severe
justice, determined not only to undeceive the Count on this subject, but
to resign all hope of Emily. Such a sacrifice as his love rendered
this, was deserving of a noble reward, and Mons. Bonnac, if it had been
possible for him to forget the benevolent Valancourt, would have wished
that Emily might accept the just Du Pont.
When the Count was informed of the error he had committed, he was
extremely shocked at the consequence of his credulity, and the account
which Mons. Bonnac gave of his friend's situation, while at Paris,
convinced him, that Valancourt had been entrapped by the schemes of a
set of dissipated young men, with whom his profession had partly obliged
him to associate, rather than by an inclination to vice; and, charmed
by the humanity, and noble, though rash generosity, which his conduct
towards Mons. Bonnac exhibited, he forgave him the transient errors,
that had stained his youth, and restored him to the high degree of
esteem, with which he had regarded him, during their early acquaintance.