"No, we cannot," she answered. "To ask it proves your mean spirit. But do you think we shall forget you? We have something to remember you by Be sure—be sure that it will not be forgotten while there is blood in our veins."
"To what do you refer?"
"There is a scar on my Louis' face inflicted by you, which he will bear with him to the grave."
"No, no," I cried. "It is not true to say I did it. I deplore the accident, but it was caused by his own cruelty."
"How dare you utter the lie? It is not the first time; you said as much on the day you tried to kill him. Yes, you would have murdered him had I not been by. We shall remember you by that, and it shall be evidence against you if there is ever occasion for it. Cruelty! My darling Louis cruel! He has the tenderest heart. You coward—you coward! Had he been as old and strong as you you would not have dared to attack him. But that is the way with such as you—to strike only the weak. Time will show—time will show! You are going into the world; there is no longer a check upon you. There will be a woman, perhaps, whom you will beat and torture. Oh, yes, you will do it; and you will lie to the world and whine that the fault is hers. Let those who stand by her come to me and Louis—we will give you a character; you shall be exposed in your true light. I hate you—I hate you—I hate you! May your life be a life of sorrow!"
And she flung herself from the room.
The time was to come when these cruel words were to be used against me with cruel effect; there was something prophetic in their venom.
I did not see Louis before I left the house, and on that day I commenced a new life.