However, these reflections but half appeased the cravings of Barkilphedro’s pride.  Consolations, palliations at most.  To vex is one thing; to torment would be infinitely better.  Barkilphedro had a thought which returned to him without ceasing:  his success might not go beyond just irritating the epidermis of Josiana.  What could he hope for more—­he so obscure against her so radiant?  A scratch is worth but little to him who longs to see the crimson blood of his flayed victim, and to hear her cries as she lies before him more than naked, without even that garment the skin!  With such a craving, how sad to be powerless!

Alas, there is nothing perfect!

However, he resigned himself.  Not being able to do better, he only dreamed half his dream.  To play a treacherous trick is an object after all.

What a man is he who revenges himself for a benefit received!  Barkilphedro was a giant among such men.  Usually, ingratitude is forgetfulness.  With this man, patented in wickedness, it was fury.  The vulgar ingrate is full of ashes; what was within Barkilphedro?  A furnace—­furnace walled round by hate, silence, and rancour, awaiting Josiana for fuel.  Never had a man abhorred a woman to such a point without reason.  How terrible!  She was his dream, his preoccupation, his ennui, his rage.

Perhaps he was a little in love with her.

CHAPTER XI.

BARKILPHEDRO IN AMBUSCADE.

To find the vulnerable spot in Josiana, and to strike her there, was, for all the causes we have just mentioned, the imperturbable determination of Barkilphedro.  The wish is sufficient; the power is required.  How was he to set about it?  There was the question.

Vulgar vagabonds set the scene of any wickedness they intend to commit with care.  They do not feel themselves strong enough to seize the opportunity as it passes, to take possession of it by fair means or foul, and to constrain it to serve them.  Deep scoundrels disdain preliminary combinations.  They start from their villainies alone, merely arming themselves all round, prepared to avail themselves of various chances which may occur, and then, like Barkilphedro, await the opportunity.  They know that a ready-made scheme runs the risk of fitting ill into the event which may present itself.  It is not thus that a man makes himself master of possibilities and guides them as one pleases.  You can come to no previous arrangement with destiny.  To-morrow will not obey you.  There is a certain want of discipline in chance.

Therefore they watch for it, and summon it suddenly, authoritatively, on the spot.  No plan, no sketch, no rough model; no ready-made shoe ill-fitting the unexpected.  They plunge headlong into the dark.  To turn to immediate and rapid profit any circumstance that can aid him is the quality which distinguishes the able scoundrel, and elevates the villain into the demon.  To strike suddenly at fortune, that is true genius.