“See here,” he said; “I wouldn’t do the graceless thing by your mother’s graceless son. If this hadn’t happened—had redemption been denied me, I won’t say but that it might have been my intention to make you my heir—an evil inheritance. That’s past, that’s all over. Better to lose the world than your soul, eh? But I should blame myself to deprive you of the means to honesty. Take my advice, rascal, and live cleanly for the future. We’ve sown our wild oats, you and I. We must both be out of the house by to-morrow, and leave it clear to the sweepers and garnishers. In the meantime, here’s to commute your expectations. Money I can’t command, without abuse of the marriage settlements, but its equivalent lies here—take it.”
He held out a handful of jewels, of ancient setting and indiscriminate value. Cartouche received the heap passively.
“It would be false modesty in me to refuse my wages,” he said.
“Yes, yes,” said the other, returning, still agitated, to the cabinet. “There may be another trifle or so. There—”
He paused, holding a ring in his hand.
“This is your mother’s hair,” he said, suddenly and sharply. “You can have it also, if you wish.”
Cartouche received the ring from his hand.
“Thank you, father,” he said quietly.
“No such thing!” began di Rocco, loudly; but his voice broke on the word. Cartouche stepped forward, and kissed him on the cheek.
“Goodbye!” he said. “I wish you had made a good man of me.”