Pierre had retired step by step as far as the fire-place, his mouth half open, his eyes glaring, a prey to one of those mad fits of passion in which a crime is committed.
He said again in a lower tone, gasping for breath: “Hold your tongue—for God’s sake hold your tongue!”
“No! For a long time I have been wanting to give you my whole mind! You have given me an opening—so much the worse for you. I love the woman; you know it, and laugh her to scorn in my presence—so much the worse for you. But I will break your viper’s fangs, I tell you. I will make you treat me with respect.”
“With respect—you?”
“Yes—me.”
“Respect you? You who have brought shame on us all by your greed.”
“You say—? Say it again—again.”
“I say that it does not do to accept one man’s fortune when another is reputed to be your father.”
Jean stood rigid, not understanding, dazed by the insinuation he scented.
“What? Repeat that once more.”