"It was a base lie, unworthy of a gentleman and a father." The marquis
fumbled at his lips. "The lie has kept me rather wakeful. Anger burns
quickly, and the ashes are bitter. I am a proud man, but there is no
flaw in my pride. You are my lawful son."

"What! Have you gone to the trouble of having me legitimatized?" with
a terrible laugh.

"I shall never lose my temper again," retorted the father, a ghost of a
smile parting his thin lips. "Let us put aside antagonism for the
present. Let us analyze my action. Why should I go to the trouble of
having your title adjusted by parliamentary law? I am too old for
Paris; Paris shall see me no more. Am I a man to run after
sentimentality? You will scarce accuse me of that weakness. Were you
aught but what you are, I should be dining in Rochelle, with all my
accustomed comforts. You are successor to my titles. Believe me or
not, as to that I am totally indifferent. I am doing what my sense of
justice demands. That is sufficient for me. The night of the day you
took passage on the Saint Laurent I called to the hôtel those whilom
friends of yours and charged them on the pain of death to stop a
further spread to your madness. Scarce a dozen in Rochelle know; Paris
is wholly ignorant. Your revenues in the Cévennes are accumulating.
Return to France, or remain here to become . . . great and respected;
that is no concern of mine. To tell you these facts I have crossed the
Atlantic. There can be no maudlin sentiment between you and me; there
have been too many harsh words. That is all I have to say. Digest it
well."

Silence. A breeze, blowing in through a window, stirred the flames of