“What do you want, Sainclair?”
I told him all that I had heard and my opinion of him for his actions which had so deeply wounded Mme. Darzac.
“She didn’t tell you everything, my friend,” he replied, coldly. “She did not tell you that she forbade me to touch that man.”
“That is true!” I cried. “I heard her.”
“Well, what have you come here to tell me then?” he went on, roughly. “Do you know what she said to me yesterday? She ordered me to go away. She would rather die than see me take issue against my father.”
And he laughed—laughed. Such laughter, I hope not to hear again.
“Against my father! She thinks, I suppose, that he is stronger than I!”
His face was not a pleasant sight to see as he uttered the words.
But suddenly it seemed to be transformed and to glow with unearthly beauty.
“She is afraid for me!” he said, softly. “And I—I am afraid for her—only for her. And I do not know my father. And, God help me! I do not know my mother!”