But that thin and bat-like note silenced him. He ended lamely, with some empty generalisation on success.
"Ah, but success in what?" Marsden demanded, interrupting his playing on the glass for a moment.
"In your aim, whatever it may be."
"Ah!" said Marsden, resuming his performance.
Romarin had sought in his recital to minimise differences in circumstances; but Marsden seemed bent on aggravating them. He had the miserable advantage of the man who has nothing to lose. And bit by bit, Romarin had begun to realise that he was going considerably more than halfway to meet this old enemy of his, and that amity seemed as far on as ever. In his heart he began to feel the foreknowledge that their meeting could have no conclusion. He hated the man, the look of his face and the sound of his voice, as much as ever.
The proprietor approached with profoundest apology in his attitude. M'sieu would pardon him, but the noise of the glass … it was annoying … another M'sieu had made complaint….
"Eh?…" cried Marsden. "Oh, that! Certainly! It can be put to a much better purpose."
He refilled the glass.
The liquor had begun to tell on him. A quarter of the quantity would have made a clean-living man incapably drunk, but it had only made Marsden's eyes bright. He gave a sarcastic laugh.
"And is that all?" he asked.