Julien grasped it, and seating himself near his brother, read it aloud, Pascal several times cautioning him to lower his voice. When Julien finished reading he jumped to his feet and exclaimed excitedly:
“At last! At last!! The hour of vengeance is near! If we find this man Vandemar, it should not take us long to avenge the murder of our father; then our sister will never again be able to reproach us with cowardice or wilful delay.”
“Be not over-confident, Julien. You know how sanguine we were when we sent Alberto Cordoni to England in search of some trace of Manuel Della Coscia, and you know what a large sum that effort cost us, and all for nothing. We were duped by Cordoni! This may be nothing but a plot to capture the reward. We must be on our guard!”
“But you will meet this man?” queried Julien.
“Certainly,” said his brother, “and you shall go with me. If he does what he says he can, I shall have to pay him a hundred louis d’or, but that is little for so much.”
Pascal changed the subject abruptly: “Julien, I have a favour to ask of you. Will you deliver this letter into the hands of Count Mont d’Oro?”
“Why, of course,” said Julien, taking up the letter. “But I hope you have not invited him to the party. Vivienne told me that she had not sent him an invitation. She doesn’t like him, and if he comes she will be unhappy.”
“Thank you for your advice,” said Pascal, coldly. “I never afflict her willingly, Julien, but brothers or sisters who do not, by their virtuous lives and firm counsels, support the customs and dignity of their ancestors do not deserve to bear their name. She is younger than I; it is my right to command and hers to obey.”
As Julien walked through the garden on his way to Mont d’Oro Castle, he said to himself:
“Pascal hit Vivienne and me with one stone. ‘A brother who does not by his virtuous life——’ That was meant for me. The rest was for Vivienne. That brother of mine is a shrewd man, very.”