I shall never again cross the threshold of any house of yours; never again shall I look upon your face, nor hear with patience your name spoken.

In spite of all you have done, I shall yet become a man.

Somewhere I shall begin anew.
I shall find a level, and from that I shall rise.

And I shall become what you will never become, respected." He picked up his cloak and hat.
He looked steadily into his father's eyes, then swung on his heels, passed through the salon, thence to the street.
"Paul ?" said Victor.
"Is that you, Victor ?" quietly.
"Yes, Paul." Victor gently replaced the Chevalier's sword into its scabbard, and locking his arm in his friend's, the two walked in silence toward the Corne d'Abondance.
And the marquis?
Ah, God--the God he did not believe in!--only God could analyse his thoughts.
"Fool!" he cried, seeing himself alone and the gift of prescience foretelling that he was to be henceforth and forever alone,--"senile fool! Dotard!" He beat about with his cane even as the Chevalier had beaten about with his sword.

"Double fool! to lose him for the sake of a lie, a damnable lie, and the lack of courage to own to it!" A Venetian mirror caught his attention.