Aussi douce que belle;
Je crois Jeanneton
Plus douce qu‘un--mouton.´"
“You are mocking me, my lord.”
“In good faith I do not think I am. Sit down, Carew, and let us look the matter in the face as sensible men should. I have no wish to put your money in my pocket or act the country squire on your beggarly paternal fields, but my ears are for ever itching for the pleasant rattle of the dice-board, and I thirst for the sight of a royal hand at cards. Fortune, which hath hitherto treated me so scurvily, hath taken a turn at last, and I am richer by some thousands than when I landed in your island with nothing in the world but a sword and two portmanteaux. For that, I am wholly indifferent, and will stake my new possessions as readily as I threw away my old. I am sorry for you, but I do not think you would take back what you have lost as a gift, even if I offered it now.”
“Would I not?” said Carew, with a hoarse laugh, throwing up his hand.
“I do not think you would,” answered the Vicomte gravely, but with a certain elevation of his eyebrows. “Your sense of honour would forbid. But there is a matter for which I have some concern--how will this affect your sister?”
“Leave my sister out of the question. I am her protector and allow no man to question me on that head.”
The two looked at one another steadily--the one frowning, the other coldly impassive, but there was that look in De Laprade´s eyes that made Carew shift his gaze. To carry off his confusion, he poured himself out a full glass and drank it at a breath.
“There need be no secrets between us, my good cousin. I have never doubted that you have already staked your sister´s fortune and that it has gone after the rest into my pocket. I have known even honourable men tempted to do such things, but for my own part, I do not care to lend myself to aid them. The question still remains--how does this affect your sister?”