"Look well into my face, Monsieur; look well. Is
there not something there to awaken your memory?" Brother Jacques
brought his face within a span of the marquis's. "Look!"
"The eyes, the eyes! . . . Margot, a son? . . . What do you want?"
The marquis moistened his lips.
"To make your last hour something like the many I have lived. Where is
the woman you wronged and cast aside, my mother?"
The marquis's arms gave way.
"Ah, but I have waited for this hour!" said Brother Jacques. All the
years of suffering returned and spread their venom through his veins.
"I have starved. I have begged. I have been beaten. I have slept in
fields and have been bitten by dogs. I have seen you feasting at your
table while I hungered outside. I have watched your coach as it rolled
through the chateau gates. One day your postilion struck me with his
whip because I did not get out of the way soon enough. I have crept
into sheds and shared the straw with beasts which had more pity than
you. I thought of you, Monsieur le Marquis, you in your chateau with
plenty to eat and drink, and a fire toasting your noble shins. Have I
not thought of you?"
"I am an old man," said the marquis, bewildered.
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