"Your lordship, that was not the motive. I could never have dreamed of marriage had it not been for the Duchess—"
"Dog, only I am your master. Only I—"
"True, but here we are not accustomed to distinguish between the orders of your lordship and his mother. Parents represent God on earth."
"Jean is innocent. Another in his place would have acted likewise. Be just, René," said Amélie.
The steward looked on her in deep gratitude.
"René, your mother is the only culprit,—she and that fatality which dogs all who aid our cause. We carry misfortune with us. We should have told Jean our secret to begin with; we should have treated him as a friend, not as a menial. Then our enemies could not have deceived him. But how could we suspect that your mother had a suspicion of my presence here? René, a vicious womb has borne you—the womb of a hyena."
"Amélie," he groaned, "I do not attempt to defend my mother's conduct. She has acted like a fiend. But she is mentally incapable of planning the villainy. She was the instrument of the police. O Amélie, 'tis our parents who accomplish our ruin. Your father sets Volpetti free and my mother delivers you to another man. O I rave! You are mine, mine! No other man exists."
He clasped her hands and she gazed passionately up into his face, forgetful of Vilon, who frowningly beheld his honor as bridegroom affronted. At length René remembered the importunate presence, and sternly said:
"Begone!"
"You bid me go!" said the Breton, roused at length. "If I go my wife comes with me."