"Most certainly I am. I swear the whole charge is a dastardly lie, and is without a shadow of foundation."
"Are you prepared to swear this to me on oath? Hold up your hand and swear then," said his father, as Pierre nodded assent.
"I swear before God that the whole story is nothing but a filthy lie," said Pierre, holding up his hand, "and I solemnly call God to witness what I say."
"You are lying, you are deceiving me—I can read it in your face."
"May God strike me dead on the spot if I am deceiving you," replied Pierre in a sudden outburst of passion, bringing his fist down on the table with a bang in order to carry conviction, although he was trembling from head to foot.
"Of course," he continued after a moment's reflection, "if you prefer to believe this damned cad whom you call Emile, rather than your own son, I have nothing more to say."
Duval remained silent for a few moments, fixing on him one of those terrible looks which would have cowed a Bengal tiger, and caused him to slink away.
"Come now, father, for goodness' sake change the subject, and don't waste my time with these absurd accusations," said Pierre, with well-feigned anger, although he was quaking with fear.
"Pierre, I ask you for the last time, do you still persist in your statement that it is all a lie?"
"Of course I do; what else could it be?"