Aymar shook his head and caressed de Fresne's sleepy spaniel. "Not more ruined than I am now."
De Fresne got up and took a turn distractedly about the room. "I don't think you look at all the possibilities of what might happen if you were not acquitted. You wear uniform; you hold the King's commission, if only for form's sake. They might degrade you; take away your cross. For the love of God, L'Oiseleur, don't run that risk!"
But Aymar was unmoved. He sat very still, as he had sat all the time; now he was plaiting the spaniel's silky ear.
"Our positions are indeed strangely reversed, my dear de Fresne, since that day! You were horrified then at my inclination to let things take their course." He stopped playing with the dog, least back in his chair, and looked straight up at him. "I can see why you are now opposed to my taking action; it is because you think my position so much more hopeless."
And once again de Fresne did not answer.
"I have been trying for some weeks," went on Aymar quietly, "merely to live down the charge. I had a good reason. That reason exists no longer . . . and the charge is not being lived down. I am going to take the other course now . . . even if it kills me."
"I should say it very probably would, then," commented the elder man, looking down at him. "I think it's crazy . . . but you always would take risks. . . . I will do what I can, however, so long as you do not require me to accuse you."
"You are not so Roman as I thought you were," murmured Aymar with a smile.
"I am not going to accuse you," repeated de Fresne doggedly. "For the rest, it is of no use appealing to you?"
"It is of no use."