“I could not help it,—you would have done the same by me. You see you have failed in everything; and when a man fails completely, we both agreed that we must give him up altogether.”
Randal said not a word, and the baron marked his shadow fall on the broad stairs, stealing down, down, step after step, till it faded from the stones.
“But he was of some use,” muttered Levy. “His treachery and his exposure will gall the childless Egerton. Some little revenge still!”
The count touched the arm of the musing usurer,
“J’ai bien joue mon role, n’est ce pas?”—(I have well played my part, have I not?)
“Your part! Ah, but, my dear count, I do not quite understand it.”
“Ma foi, you are passably dull. I had just been landed in France, when a letter from L’Estrange reached me. It was couched as an invitation, which I interpreted to—the duello. Such invitations I never refuse. I replied: I came hither, took my lodgings at an inn. My Lord seeks me last night.
“I begin in the tone you may suppose. Pardieu! he is clever, milord! He shows me a letter from the Prince Von ——-, Alphonse’s recall, my own banishment. He places before me, but with admirable suavity, the option of beggary and ruin, or an honourable claim on Alphonso’s gratitude. And as for that petit monsieur, do you think I could quietly contemplate my own tool’s enjoyment of all I had lost myself? Nay, more, if that young Harpagon were Alphonso’s son-inlaw, could the duke have a whisperer at his ear more fatal to my own interests? To be brief, I saw at a glance my best course. I have adopted it. The difficulty was to extricate myself as became a man de sang et de jeu. If I have done so, congratulate me. Alphonso has taken my hand, and I now leave it to him to attend to my fortunes, and clear up my repute.”
“If you are going to London,” said Levy, “my carriage, ere this, must be at the door, and I shall be proud to offer you a seat, and converse with you on your prospects. But, peste, mon cher, your fall has been from a great height, and any other man would have broken his bones.”
“Strength is ever light,” said the count, smiling; “and it does not fall; it leaps down and rebounds.”