“I admit the correctness of your supposition,” said he; “and now, how do you propose to act?”

“I shall do nothing as yet,” answered the young man, with a fierce gleam in his eyes.  “Sabine asks me to tear her from my heart.  I will affect to do so for the time.  Modeste believes in me, and will help me.  I have patience.  The villain who has wrecked my life does not know me, and I will only reveal myself upon the day that I hold him helpless in my hand.”

“Take care, Andre,” urged De Breulh; “a false step would ruin your hopes for ever.”

“I will make none; as soon as I have this man’s name, I will insult him; there will be a duel, and I shall kill him—­or he me.”

“A duel will be the height of madness, and would ruin all your hopes of marriage with Sabine.”

“The only thing that holds me back is that I do not wish that there should be a corpse between Sabine and myself.  Blood on a bridal dress, they say, brings misery; and if this man is what I suspect him to be, I should be doing him too much honor if I crossed swords with him.  No, I must have a deeper vengeance than this, for I can never forget that he nearly caused Sabine’s death.”

He paused for a few seconds, and once again broke the silence which reigned in the room.

“To abuse the power that he must possess shows what a miserable wretch he must be; and men do not attain such a height of infamy by a single bound.  The course of his life must be full of similar crimes, growing deeper and deadlier as he moves on.  I will make it my business to unmask him and to hold him up to the scorn and contempt of his fellow-men.”

“Yes; that is the plan to pursue.”

“And we will do so, sir.  Ah! heaven help me!  I say ‘we,’ for I have relied on you.  The generous offer that you made to me I refused, and I was in the right in doing so; but I should now be a mere madman if I did not entreat you to grant me your aid and advice.  We have both known hardship and are capable of going without food or sleep, if necessity requires it of us.  We have both graduated in the school of poverty and sorrow.  We can keep our plans to ourselves and act.”

Andre paused, as if waiting for a reply, but his friend remained silent.

“My plan is most simple,” resumed the young painter.  “As soon as we know the fellow’s name we shall be able to act.  He will never suspect us, and we can follow him like his very shadow.  There are professional detectives who, for a comparatively small sum, will lay bare a man’s entire life.  Are we not as clever as this fine fellow?  We can work well together in our different circles; you, in the world of fashion, can pick up intelligence that I could not hope to gain; while I, from my lowly position, will study the hidden side of his life, for I can talk to the servants lounging at the front doors or the grooms at the public-houses without suspicion.”

M. de Breulh was delighted at finding that he could have some occupation which would fill up the dreary monotony of his life.