“I breathe again!” exclaimed Cinq-Mars; “he believes not in God!”
Joseph continued:
“Richelieu, you, and I were born ambitious; it followed, then, that everything must be sacrificed to this idea.”
“Wretched man, do not compare me to thyself!”
“It is the plain truth, nevertheless,” replied the Capuchin’; “only you now see that our system was better than yours.”
“Miserable wretch, it was for love—”
“No, no! it was not that; here are mere words again. You have perhaps imagined it was so; but it was for your own advancement. I have heard you speak to the young girl. You thought but of yourselves; you do not love each other. She thought but of her rank, and you of your ambition. One loves in order to hear one’s self called perfect, and to be adored; it is still the same egoism.”
“Cruel serpent!” cried Cinq-Mars; “is it not enough that thou hast caused our deaths? Why dost thou come here to cast thy venom upon the life thou hast taken from us? What demon has suggested to thee thy horrible analysis of hearts?”
“Hatred of everything which is superior to myself,” replied Joseph, with a low and hollow laugh, “and the desire to crush those I hate under my feet, have made me ambitious and ingenious in finding the weakness of your dreams.”
“Just Heaven, dost thou hear him?” exclaimed Cinq-Mars, rising and extending his arms upward.