“Was it courage you lacked?” asked the old man, turning for the first time to his son.  “Did you not know that ten drops instead of one of the medicine I was taking would have freed you from me for ever?”

Gaston did not seem at all overwhelmed.  Indeed, he was wondering how the matter had reached his father’s ears, and how Catenac had discovered the rough draft of the agreement.

The contractor had imagined that his son would implore forgiveness; but seeing that he remained obdurate, his violence burst forth again.  “And do you know what use my son would make of my fortune?  He would squander it on a creature he picked up out of the streets,—­a woman he called Madame de Chantemille,—­a fit companion for a noble count!”

The shaft had penetrated the impassability which Gaston had up to this displayed.  “You should not insult Zora,” said he.

“I shall not,” returned his father with a grim laugh, “take the trouble to do that; you are not of age, and I shall clap your friend Madame de Chantemille into prison.”

“You would not do that!”

“Would I not?  You are a minor; but your Zora, whose real name is Rose, is much older; the law is wholly on my side.”

“But father—­”

“There is no use in crying; my lawyer has the matter in hand, and by nightfall your Zora will be securely caged.”

This blow was so cruel and unexpected, that the young man could only repeat,—­

“Zora in prison!”

“Yes, in the House of Correction, and from thence to Saint Lazare.  Catenac told me the very things to be done.”

“Shameful!” exclaimed Gaston, “Zora in prison!  Why, I and my friends will lay siege to the place.  I will go to the Court, stand by her side, and depose that this all comes from your devilish malignity.  I will say that I love and esteem her, and that as soon as I am of age I will marry her; the papers will write about us.  Go on, go on; I rather like the idea.”

However great a man’s self-control may be, it has its limits.  M. Gandelu had restrained himself even while he told his son of his villainous conduct; but these revolting threats were more than he could endure, and Andre seeing this, stepped forward, opened the door, and thrust the foolish youth into the corridor.

“What have you done” cried the contractor; “do you not see that he will go and warn that vile creature, and that she will escape from justice?”

And as Andre, fearing he knew not what, tried to restrain him, the old man, exerting all his muscular strength, thrust him on one side with perfect ease, and rushed from the room, calling loudly to his servants.

Andre was horrified at the scene at which, in spite of himself, he had been compelled to assist as a witness.  He was not a fool, and had lived too much in the world of art not to have witnessed many strange scenes and met with many dissolute characters; but, as a rule, the follies of the world had amused rather than disgusted him.  But this display of want of feeling on the part of a son toward a father absolutely chilled his blood.  In a few minutes M. Gandelu appeared with a calmer expression upon his face.