Raoul was shocked at this cold-blooded perversity of his uncle; but Clameran showed his immense superiority in wickedness, and the apprentice admired the master.

“You would certainly succeed, uncle,” he said, “were it not for the cashier.  Between you and Madeleine, Prosper will always stand; if not in person, certainly in memory.”

Louis smiled scornfully, and, throwing away his cigar, which had died out, said: 

“I don’t mind Prosper, or attach any more importance to him than to that cigar.”

“But she loves him.”

“So much the worse for him.  Six months hence, she will despise him; he is already morally ruined, and at the proper time I will make an end of him socially.  Do you know whither the road of dissipation leads, my good nephew?  Prosper supports Gypsy, who is extravagant; he gambles, keeps fast horses, and gives suppers.  Now, you gamble yourself, and know how much money can be squandered in one night; the losses of baccarat must be paid within twenty-four hours.  He has lost heavily, must pay, and—­has charge of a money-safe.”

Raoul protested against this insinuation.

“It is useless to tell me that he is honest, that nothing would induce him to touch money that does not belong to him.  I know better.  Parbleu!  I was honest myself until I learned to gamble.  Any man with a grain of sense would have married Madeleine long ago, and sent us flying bag and baggage.  You say she loves him!  No one but a coward would be defrauded of the woman he loved and who loved him.  Ah, if I had once felt Madeleine’s hand tremble in mine, if her rosy lips had once pressed a kiss upon my brow, the whole world could not take her from me.  Woe to him who dared stand in my path!  As it is, Prosper annoys me, and I intend to suppress him.  With your aid I will so cover him with disgrace and infamy, that Madeleine will drive every thought of him from her mind, and her love will turn to hate.”

Louis’s tone of rage and vengeance startled Raoul, and made him regard the affair in a worse light than ever.

“You have given me a shameful, dastardly role to play,” he said after a long pause.

“My honorable nephew has scruples, I suppose,” said Clameran sneeringly.

“Not exactly scruples; yet I confess—­”

“That you want to retreat?  Rather too late to sing that tune, my friend.  You wish to enjoy every luxury, have your pockets filled with gold, cut a fine figure in high society, and remain virtuous.  Are you fool enough to suppose a poor man can be honest?  ’Tis a luxury pertaining to the wealthy.  Did you ever see people such as we draw money from the pure fount of virtue?  We must fish in muddy waters, and then wash ourselves clean, and enjoy the result of our labor.”

“I have never been rich enough to be honest,” said Raoul humbly; “but I must say it goes hard with me to torture two defenceless, frightened women, and ruin the character of a poor devil who regards me as his best friend.  It is a low business!”