It is
worthless, either to you or to me, it is true. Nevertheless, thank me
and bid me be gone!' And that is all you have to say!"
The marquis sat back in his chair, thunderstruck.
"It is nothing, then," went on the son, leaning across the table and
speaking in those thin tones of one who represses fury; "it is nothing
that men have laughed behind my back, insulted me to my face? It is
nothing to have trampled on my illusions and bittered the cup of life?
It is nothing that I have suffered for three months as they in hell
suffer for eternity? It is nothing that my trust in humanity is gone?
All these things are inconsiderable! In a moment of anger you told me
this unholy lie, without cause, without definite purpose, without
justice, carelessly, as a pastime?"
"Not as a pastime, not carelessly; rather with a definite purpose, to
bring you to your senses. You were becoming an insolent drunkard."
The chevalier stretched out a hand. "We have threshed that subject
well. We will not recall it."
"Very well." The marquis's anger was close to the surface. This was
his reward for what he understood to be a tremendous personal
sacrifice! He had come three thousand miles to make a restitution only
to receive covert curses for his pains! "But I beg of you not to
repeat that extravagant play-acting.
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