The Prince hesitated for a second. He was evidently seeking a polite form to express his request. He did not find one, and in a threatening manner, he resumed:
“You must hold your tongue, otherwise—”
“Otherwise?” inquired Pierce, aggressively.
“What is the use of threats?” replied Serge, already calmed. “Excuse me; I know that you will not tell; if not for my sake at least for that of others.”
“Yes, for others,” said Pierre, passionately; “for others whom you have basely sacrificed, and who deserve all your respect and love; for Madame Desvarennes, whose high intelligence you have not been able to understand; for Micheline, whose tender heart you have not been able to appreciate. Yes, for their sakes I will hold my peace, not out of regard for you, because you neither deserve consideration nor esteem.”
The Prince advanced a step, and exclaimed:
“Pierre!”
Pierre did not move, and looking Serge in the face, continued:
“The truth is unpleasant to you, still you must hear it. You act according to your fancies. Principles and morals, to which all men submit, are dead letters to you. Your own pleasure above all things, and always! That is your rule, eh? and so much the worse if ruin and trouble to others are the consequences? You only have to deal with two women, and you profit by it. But I warn you that if you continue to crush them I will be their defender.”
Serge had listened to all this with disdainful impassibility, and when Pierre had finished, he smiled, snapped his fingers, and turning toward the young man: