"What shall I do?"
"Nothing. Write poetry. You shall live as you please. You shall have money. You shall enjoy life. I will not even bother my head about you. I repeat, you play no part in my venture."
"And who shall I be?"
Sernine stretched out his arm and pointed to the next room:
"You shall take that man's place. You are that man!"
Gérard shuddered with revolt and disgust:
"Oh, no, he is dead! . . . And then . . . it is a crime! . . . No, I want a new life, made for me, thought out for me . . . an unknown name. . . ."
"That man, I tell you!" cried Sernine, irresistible in his energy and authority. "You shall be that man and none other! That man, because his destiny is magnificent, because his name is illustrious, and because he hands down to you a thrice-venerable heritage of ancestral dignity and pride."
"It is a crime!" moaned Baupré, faltering.
"You shall be that man!" spoke Sernine, with unparalleled vehemence. "You shall be that man! If not, you become Baupré again; and over Baupré I own rights of life and death. Choose."