gratification of
a cynical whim."

"My motives are beside the question," Rochester answered. "Do I
understand that you decline to give me any account of yourself?"

"I see no reason," Saton said coldly, "why I should gratify your
curiosity."

"There is no reason," Rochester admitted. "It is simply a matter of
policy. Frankly, I mistrust you. There are points about your
behaviour, ever since in a foolish moment I asked you to stay at
Beauleys, which I do not understand. I do not understand Lord
Guerdon's sudden recognition of you, and even suddener death. I do not
understand why it has amused you to fill the head of my young ward,
Lois Champneyes, with foolish thoughts. I do not understand why you
should stand between my wife and the writers of a blackmailing letter.
I do not ask you for any explanation. I simply tell you that these
things present themselves as enigmas to me. You have declared your
position. I declare mine. What you will not tell me I shall make it my
business to discover."

The Comtesse leaned a little forward. Her face was still unchanged,
her tone scornful.

"It is I who will answer you," she said. "My adopted son--for he is my
adopted son if I choose to make him so--will explain nothing. He has,
in fact, nothing more to say to you. You and he are quits so far as
regards obligations. Your paths in life lie apart. You are one of the
self-centred, sedentary loiterers by the way. For him," she added,
throwing out suddenly her brown, withered hand, aflame with jewels,
"there lie different things. Something he knows; something he has
learned; much there is yet for him to learn. He will go on his way,
undisturbed by you or any friends of yours. As for his means, your
question is an impertinence. Ask at Rothschilds concerning the
Comtesse de Vestignes, and remember that what belongs to me belongs to
him. Measure your wits against his, to-day, to-morrow, or any time you
choose, and the end is certain. Show your patron out, Bertrand. He has
amused me for a little time, but I am tired."

Rochester rose to his feet.

"Madam," he said, "I am sorry to have fatigued you. For the rest," he
added, with a note of irony in his tone, "I suppose I must accept your
challenge. I feel that I am measuring myself and my poor powers
against all sorts of nameless gifts. And yet," he added, as he
followed Saton towards the door, "the world goes round, and the things
which happened yesterday repeat themselves to-morrow.