The old marquis, in his culpable thoughtlessness, had kindled this
burning envy in the heart of his second son.

A strict observer of traditional rights, he had always declared that the
eldest son of a noble house should inherit all the family possessions,
and that he intended to leave Gaston his entire fortune.

This flagrant injustice and favoritism inspired Louis with envious
hatred for his brother.

Gaston always said that he would never consent to profit by this
paternal partiality, but would share equally with his brother. Judging
others by himself, Louis placed no faith in this assertion, which he
called an ostentatious affectation of generosity.

Although this hatred was unsuspected by the marquis and Gaston, it was
betrayed by acts significant enough to attract the attention of the
servants, who often commented upon it.

They were so fully aware of Louis's sentiments toward his brother that,
when he was prevented from escaping because of the stumbling horse, they
refused to believe it an accident; and, whenever Louis came near would
mutter, "Fratricide!"

A deplorable scene took place between Louis and St. Jean, who was
allowed, on account of his fifty years' faithful service, to take
liberties which he sometimes abused by making rough speeches to his
superiors.

"It is a great pity," said the old servant, "that a skilful rider like
yourself should have fallen at the very moment when your brother's life
depended upon your horsemanship."

At this broad insinuation, Louis turned pale, and threateningly cried
out:

"You insolent dog, what do you mean?"

"You know well enough what I mean, monsieur," the old man said,
significantly.

"I do not know! Explain your impertinence: speak, I tell you!"

The man only answered by a meaning look, which so incensed Louis that
he rushed toward him with upraised whip, and would have beaten him
unmercifully, had not the other servants interfered, and dragged St.
Jean from the spot.

This altercation occurred while Gaston was in the madder-field trying to
escape his pursuers.

After a while the gendarmes and hussars returned, with slow tread and
sad faces, to say that Gaston de Clameran had plunged into the Rhone,
and was instantly drowned.

This melancholy news was received with groans and tears by everyone save
Louis, who remained calm and unmoved: not a single muscle of his face
quivered.

But his eyes sparkled with triumph. A secret voice cried within