“Well, avenge yourself like a man, and not like a child!” said M. Verduret angrily.
“Monsieur!”
“Yes, I repeat it, like a child. What will you do after you get into the house? Have you any arms? No. You rush upon Raoul, and a struggle ensues; while you two are fighting, Madeleine jumps in her carriage, and drives off. What then? Which is the stronger, you or Raoul?”
Overcome by the sense of his powerlessness, Prosper was silent.
“And arms would be of no use,” continued M. Verduret: “it is fortunate you have none with you, for it would be very foolish to shoot a man whom you can send to the galleys.”
“What must I do?”
“Wait. Vengeance is a delicious fruit, that must ripen in order that we may fully enjoy it.”
Prosper was unsettled in his resolution; M. Verduret seeing this brought forth his last and strongest argument.
“How do we know,” he said, “that Mlle. Madeleine is here on her own account? Did we not come to the conclusion that she was sacrificing herself for the benefit of someone else? That superior will which compelled her to banish you may have constrained this step to-night.”
That which coincides with our secret wishes is always eagerly welcomed. This supposition, apparently improbable, struck Prosper as possibly true.