an opening—so much the worse for you. I love the woman; you know it, and laugh her to scorn in my presence—so much the worse for you. But I will break your viper's fangs, I tell you. I will make you treat me with respect."
"With respect—you?"
"Yes—me."
"Respect you? You who have brought shame on us all by your greed."
"You say—? Say it again—again."
"I say that it does not do to accept one man's fortune when another is reputed to be your father."
Jean stood rigid, not understanding, dazed by the insinuation he scented.
"What? Repeat that once more."
"I say—what everybody is muttering, what every gossip is blabbing—that you are the son of the man who left you his fortune. Well, then—a decent man does not take the money which brings dishonour on his mother."
"Pierre! Pierre! Pierre! Think what you are saying. You? Is it you who give utterance to this infamous thing?"
"Yes, I. It is I. Have you not seen me crushed with woe this month past, spending my nights without sleep and my days in lurking out of sight like an animal? I hardly know what I
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