“That would mean safety, and even triumph!” exclaimed Lichtenbach. “Just let me get them into my power, and they shall not escape so easily!”
“Then I will rely upon you! Ah! You sly rogue, you have come back to life again.”
“The fact is, the idea of being their dupe was killing me! The whole of my life would have been spent in vain! Ever since I have been in Paris, I have only had one desire—to injure them! Give up this joy! I could not! Whom shall I send them?”
“A priest,” insinuated Agostini.
“The Abbé d’Escayrac, if he would do me this service! Fine idea! He well knows how to lull one’s conscience by moulding a man’s intelligence to his will. But what can we offer Baradier and Graff?”
“Anything you imagine they might decently accept. What will it cost you? Have you not a daughter? She has been carefully brought up, and is of an amiable disposition, so I am told.”
“Well!”
“Offer her to young Baradier, with an enormous dowry. If Sophia were only willing, she would arrange the matter well enough!”
This time, Agostini manifested symptoms of violent discontent. He brought his hand down forcibly on the table, and, looking at the others with murderous eyes, said—
“And what is to become of me in this combination? Are you forgetting that Mademoiselle Lichtenbach is my affianced wife?”