“Ah,” he said with a deep sigh of relief. “That’s done. I did not think that I could get it nearly so quickly. It’s a good thing, Aurelie, that you understood the situation. And now you, Bregeac.”
Bregeac shook his head and refused.
“What!” cried Marescal. “You refuse. Do you fancy that you can keep your post? Perhaps you think that you will be promoted. What? Promoted as the step-father of a criminal? That’s good, that is. And you would continue to give me orders, you, Bregeac? You’re a funny chap. Do you suppose that this scandal won’t be enough to clear you out, that to-morrow, when people read in the papers of the arrest of this child, you won’t be obliged to resign?” [[211]]
Bregeac’s fingers closed upon the pen held out to him. He read the letter of resignation and hesitated.
Aurelie said to him: “Sign, Monsieur.”
He signed.
“There we are!” said Marescal, pocketing the two papers—the confession and the resignation. “My chief is down and out; his post is empty; and it has been promised to me. And the girl will be in prison which little by little cures me of the love which was gnawing my heart.”
He said this with a cold cynicism, that bared the bottom of his vile soul.
Then, with a cruel laugh, he turned on Bregeac and went on: “But we haven’t finished yet, Bregeac. When I play a game, I play it to the end.”
Bregeac smiled bitterly: “You’re going still further? What’s the use of it?” he said.