as his mother, and even her
harsh nature shuddered before the task of instructing him in this vile
thing. Why had the fool not wit enough to see it for himself?

Observing her silence Marius smiled sardonically.

"You may well ponder it," said he. "It is an easy matter to tell me what
I should do. Tell me, rather, how it should be done."

His blindness stirred her anger, and her anger whelmed her hesitation.

"Were I in your place, Marius, I should find a way," said she, in a
voice utterly expressionless, her eyes averted ever from his own.

He scanned her curiously. Her agitation was plain to him, and it puzzled
him, as did the downcast glance of eyes usually so bold and insolent in
their gaze. Then he pondered her tone, so laden with expression by its
very expressionlessness, and suddenly a flood of light broke upon his
mind, revealing very clearly and hideously her meaning. He caught his
breath with a sudden gasp and blenched a little. Then his lips tightened
suddenly.

"In that case, madame," he said, after a pause, and speaking as if he
were still without revelation of her meaning, "I can but regret that you
are not in my place. For, as it is, I am thinking we shall have to make
the best of the hovel in Touraine."

She bit her lip in the intensity of her chagrin and shame. She was no
fool, nor did she imagine from his words that her meaning had been lost
upon him. She knew that he had understood, and that he chose to pretend
that he had not. She looked up suddenly, her dark eyes blazing, a splash
of colour in either cheek.

"Fool!" she snapped at him; "you lily-livered fool! Are you indeed
my son? Are you--by God!--that you talk so lightly of yielding?" She
advanced a step in his direction. "Through your cowardice you may be
content to spend your days in beggary; not so am I; nor shall I be,
so long as I have an arm and a voice. You may go hence if your courage
fails you outright; but I'll throw up the bridge and entrench myself
within these walls. Florimond de Condillac sets no foot in here while I
live; and if he should come within range of musket-shot, it will be the
worse for him."

"I think you are mad, madame--mad so to talk of resisting him, as you
are mad to call me coward. I'll leave you till you are come to a more
tranquil frame of mind." And turning upon his heel, his face on fire
from the lash of her contempt, he strode down the hall and passed out,
leaving her alone.

White again, with heav