“There you are. Our fine plan, and I have not a single doubt of its success, collapses on account of your son’s obstinacy.”
“My son’s obstinacy?”
“Exactly. We have just explained to him in prison our plan to save him. Do you know what he said to us?”
“I’m afraid I can guess.”
“He said he formally objected to having Mrs. Frasne’s name mentioned in his defence, and that if it is, he will assume all the blame himself at once.”
“I was afraid of it,” muttered Mr. Roquevillard beneath his breath.
“I tried in vain to make him see the absurdity of this chivalry, to explain that he was not accusing anybody, since Mrs. Frasne was not punishable under the law. I told him that what his mistress had done could even be explained by her inexperience of business, her erroneous interpretation of her marriage contract. It was all useless. I ran against an invincible obstinacy.”
“Did he give you any reasons?”
“Just one—his honour.”
“Honour is one reason.”