"Would you, if Jules's son were really dead, acknowledge me as the heir?"
"I cannot tell."
"For the last time, will you speak?"
"No; the will and fortune belong to the Marquis of Fougereuse, Jules's son."
"Enough; the will is here in your house; the rest will take care of itself."
Hereupon the marquis gave a penetrating whistle, and when Simon appeared his master said to him:
"Take hold of this scoundrel!"
"Bravo! force is the only thing," cried Simon, as he rushed upon the old man. But he had reckoned without his host; with a shove Pierre Labarre threw the audacious rascal to the ground, and the next minute the heavy old table lay between him and his enemies. Thereupon the old man took a pistol from the wall, and, cocking the trigger, cried:
"Vicomte Talizac, we still have an old score to settle! Years ago you attempted to kill me in the Black Forest; take care you do not arouse my anger again."
The vicomte, who had no weapon, recoiled: Simon, however, seized a pocket-pistol from his breast, and mockingly replied: "Oh, two can play at that game!"