M. Verduret curiously watched these two enemies, with the indifference and coolness of a philosopher, who, in the most violent outbursts of human passion, merely sees subjects for meditation and study.
Finally, the silence becoming more and more threatening, he decided to break it by speaking to the banker:
“I suppose you know, monsieur, that my young relative has just been released from prison.”
“Yes,” replied M. Fauvel, making an effort to control himself, “yes, for want of sufficient proof.”
“Exactly so, monsieur, and this want of proof, as stated in the decision of ‘Not proven,’ ruins the prospects of my relative, and compels him to leave here at once for America.”
M. Fauvel’s features relaxed as if he had been relieved of some fearful agony.
“Ah, he is going away,” he said, “he is going abroad.”
There was no mistaking the resentful, almost insulting intonation of the words, “going away!”
M. Verduret took no notice of M. Fauvel’s manner.
“It appears to me,” he continued, in an easy tone, “that Prosper’s determination is a wise one. I merely wished him, before leaving Paris, to come and pay his respects to his former chief.”