“I am a follower of M. de Voltaire, Madame. I choose to use what life I have left in the profession of letters—I am going to Paris for that purpose.”
“You hear!” cried the Marquis—“you hear!”
His wife held herself erect.
“Luc,” she said, “you will not persist in this wicked folly.”
“Alas!” he answered with great sweetness, “does it seem that to you, my mother?”
“Voltaire!” she murmured.
“Say your farewells,” commanded the Marquis fiercely.
Luc came slowly round the table, feeling his way by the edge of it.
“You, at least, will not let me go with harsh words,” he said unsteadily.
“Tell me one thing!” she flashed—“do you turn your back on God?”