He sat down, leaning his chin upon his beruffled hand. The light falling full on his companion showed the dark dress and above it the quiet, much altered face. Mr. Pincornet sighed, and tapped nervously upon the railing with the fingers of his other hand. "Mr Cary, I have not seen you since—Pray accept my profound condolences, my sympathy, and my admiration."
His old pupil thanked him. "All my brother's friends and mine are most kind. I should guess that you have yourself seen many sorrows, Mr. Pincornet."
The Frenchman's face twitched. "Many, sir, many. I have experienced the curse of fortune. Eh bien! one pays, and all is said! I have grieved with you, sir, I beg you to believe it. I admired your brother."
"He was worthy of admiration."
"In the south, near Mauléon, I lost such an one—brother not in blood but in friendship, a friendship pure as the flowers of spring and strong as the vintage of autumn. His own troops turned Jacobin and scoundrel, mutinied, shot him down—Ha!" Mr. Pincornet drew out his box and took snuff with trembling fingers. "Well! the King's side was uppermost for a while down there, and we had our revenge—we had our revenge—we had our revenge! But," he ended sadly, "it could not bring back my poor Charles."
"Did you think of it as revenge?"
"No. I thought of it as justice. It was that, sir. Those soldiers paid, but they owed the debt—every sou they owed it! He was," continued Mr. Pincornet, "gallant and brave, a great lover, a great fighter. He was to my heart, though not of my blood—"
"The man that I have lost," said Cary, "was of my blood and to my heart. I am left alone of an old house. And I pursue justice, Mr. Pincornet, I pursue justice, I pursue justice."
Mr. Pincornet looked at the face opposite him. "I think, sir, you will capture that to which you give chase. I have been in town, away from the country, but I hear the talk, and sometimes I read the papers. You have not taken the murderer?"
"No!"