passionate, tormented with love and theology. Pierre de Moras, on their
return from America, had presented Lucan to his cousin Clotilde, and from
that moment there were at least two points upon which they agreed
perfectly; profound esteem for Clotilde, and deep-seated antipathy for her
husband.

They appreciated, however, each in his own way, Monsieur de Trecoeur's
character and conduct. For the Count Pierre, Trecoeur was simply a
mischievous being; in Monsieur de Lucan's eyes, he was a criminal.

"Why criminal?" Pierre said. "Is it his fault if he was born with the
eternal flames on the marrow of his bones? I admit that I feel quite
disposed to break his head when I see Clotilde's eyes red; but I would
not feel any more angry about it, than if I were crushing a serpent under
my heel. Since it is his nature, the poor man can't help it."

"That little system of yours would simply suppress all merit, all will,
all liberty; in a word, the whole moral world. If we are not the masters
of our own passions, at least to a great extent, and if, on the contrary,
it is our passions that fatally control us; if a man is necessarily good
or bad, honest or a knave, loyal or a traitor, at the mercy of his
instincts, tell me, if you please, why you honor me with your esteem and
your friendship? I have no right to them any more than any one else, any
more than Trecoeur himself."

"I beg your pardon, my friend," said Pierre gravely; "in the vegetable
world I prefer a rose to a thistle; in the moral world, I prefer you to
Trecoeur. You were born a gallant fellow; I rejoice at it, and I make the
best of it."

"Well, _mon cher_, you are laboring under a complete mistake," rejoined
Lucan. "I was born, on the contrary, with the most detestable instincts,
with the germ of all vices."

"Like Socrates?"

"Like Socrates, exactly. And if my father had not chastised me in time, if
my mother had not been a saint, finally, if I had not myself placed, with
the utmost energy, my will at the service of my conscience, I would be
to-day, a faithless and lawless scoundrel."

"But nothing proves that you will not turn out a scoundrel one of these
days, my dear friend. There is no one but may become a scoundrel at the
proper time. Everything depends upon the extent and strength of the
temptation. Whatever may be your instinct of honor and dignity, are you
yourself quite sure never to meet with a temptation sufficiently powerful
to overcome your pri