Lerne resumed his inward debate:
“Well,” said he, raising his brow, “it is agreed. Such an uncle as I have always shown myself towards you cannot possibly drive you away. That would be belying all my past. Remain then, but on the following conditions:
“We are pursuing researches here that are about to come to their fulfillment. When our discovery is a fait accompli the public will hear of it in its entirety. Till then, I do not wish it to be informed of uncertain attempts whose revelation might raise up rivals capable of anticipating us. I do not doubt your discretion, but I prefer not to put it to the test, and I entreat you in your own interests not to try to surprise any secrets, rather than to be obliged to hide them. I say, ‘in your own interests’; not merely because it is easier not to pry than to hold one’s tongue, but also for the following reasons: Our business is a commercial one at bottom. A man of business like you will be very useful to me. We shall become rich, nephew—millionaires! But you must let me forget the instrument of your fortune in peace, you must show yourself a man of tact and respectful of my orders—in a word, the man I want as an associate. You must know, I am not alone in this enterprise. They might make you repent of your acts, if you transgressed the rule I am laying down for you—cruelly repent—more cruelly than you imagine. So practice indifference, my dear nephew. See nothing, hear nothing, understand nothing, in order that you may become very, very rich—and remain alive!”
“Oh, indifference is not so easy a virtue at Fonval. There have been things going about here since last night which should not be here and only find themselves here through some bit of carelessness.”
At those words an unexpected rage seized Lerne. He flung out his fists and growled: “Wilhelm! Fool! Ass!” What I now felt sure of was that the secrets were considerable and would give me fine surprises were they discovered. As for the doctor’s promises, and his threats, I did not believe in either, and his speech had neither aroused covetousness nor fear in me—the two passions that my uncle wished to make my counselors to obedience. I rejoined coldly:
“Is that all you ask of me?”
“No. But the next prohibition is of another kind, Nicolas. You will be presented to somebody in the château; it is a young girl I rescued....”
I made a movement of surprise, and Lerne guessed my imputation.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, “she is like a daughter—nothing more. But her friendship is precious to me, and it would be painful to me to see it lessened by a sentiment which I can no longer inspire. In short, Nicolas,” he said quickly and with a certain shamefacedness, “I ask you to swear not to pay court to my protégée.”
Astounded at such a degraded view, and still more so at such a want of delicate feeling, I told myself, however, that there is no jealousy without love any more than there is smoke without fire.