“You?” cried Father d’Aigrigny. “You?” “I.”
“But they have unmasked our maneuvers.”
“So much the better; we shall be obliged to invent others.”
“But they; will suspect us in everything.”
“So much the better; the success that is difficult is the most certain.”
“What! do you hope to make Gabriel consent not to revoke his donation, which is perhaps illegal?”
“I mean to bring in to the coffers of the Company the whole of the two hundred and twelve millions, of which they wish to cheat us. Is that clear?”
“It is clear—but impossible.”
“And I tell you that it is, and must be possible. Do you not understand, short-sighted as you are!” cried Rodin, animated to such a degree that his cadaverous face became slightly flushed; “do you not understand that it is no longer in our choice to hesitate? Either these two hundred and twelve millions must be ours—and then the re-establishment of our sovereign influence in France is sure—for, in these venal times, with such a sum at command, you may bribe or overthrow a government, or light up the flame of civil war, and restore legitimacy, which is our natural ally, and, owing all to us, would give us all in return—”
“That is clear,” cried the princess, clasping her hands in admiration.