“You will be compelled to do so. Since you have alluded to the legacy, your own honor will demand that you insist upon its payment by all legal methods. There are still judges in France.”
M. Lacheneur shook his head.
“The judges will not accord me the justice I desire. I shall not apply to them.”
“But——”
“No, Monsieur, no. I wish to have nothing to do with these men. I shall not even go to the chateau to remove my clothing nor that of my daughter. If they send it to us—very well. If it pleases them to keep it, so much the better. The more shameful, infamous and odious their conduct appears, the better I shall be satisfied.”
The baron made no reply; but his wife spoke, believing she had a sure means of conquering this incomprehensible obstinacy.
“I should understand your determination if you were alone in the world,” said she, “but you have children.”
“My son is eighteen, Madame; he possesses good health and an excellent education. He can make his own way in Paris, if he chooses to remain there.”
“But your daughter?”
“Marie-Anne will remain with me.”