Then, turning to the old man, he said:
“Here’s your son, you unnatural father!”
Patrice entered the room with his head bandaged, for the blow which Siméon had struck him and the weight of the tombstone had opened his old wounds. He was very pale and seemed to be in great pain.
At the sight of Siméon Diodokis he gave signs of terrible anger. He controlled himself, however. The two men stood facing each other, without stirring, and Don Luis, rubbing his hands, said, in an undertone:
“What a scene! What a splendid scene? Isn’t it well-arranged? The father and the son! The murderer and his victim! Listen to the orchestra! . . . A slight tremolo. . . . What are they going to do? Will the son kill his father or the father kill his son? A thrilling moment. . . . And the mighty silence! Only the call of the blood is heard . . . and in what terms! Now we’re off! The call of the blood has sounded; and they are going to throw themselves into each other’s arms, the better to strangle the life out of each other!”
Patrice had taken two steps forward; and the movement suggested by Don Luis was about to be performed. Already the officer’s arms were flung wide for the fight. But suddenly Siméon, weakened by pain and dominated by a stronger will than his own, let himself go and implored his adversary:
“Patrice!” he entreated. “Patrice! What are you thinking of doing?”
Stretching out his hands, he threw himself upon the other’s pity; and Patrice, arrested in his onrush, stood perplexed, staring at the man to whom he was bound by so mysterious and strange a tie:
“Coralie,” he said, without lowering his hands, “Coralie . . . tell me where she is and I’ll spare your life.”
The old man started. His evil nature was stimulated by the remembrance of Coralie; and he recovered a part of his energy at the possibility of wrong-doing. He gave a cruel laugh: