“If you make any noise, Prosper, or raise an alarm, all your hopes are ruined.”

“I have no hopes now.”

“Raoul, put on his guard, will escape us, and you will remain dishonored forever.”

“What difference is it to me?”

“It makes a great difference to me.  I have sworn to prove your innocence.  A man of your age can easily find a wife, but can never restore lustre to a tarnished name.  Let nothing interfere with the establishing of your innocence.”

Genuine passion is uninfluenced by surrounding circumstances.  M. Verduret and Prosper stood foot-deep in mud, wet to the skin, the rain pouring down on their heads, and yet seemed in no hurry to end their dispute.

“I will be avenged,” repeated Prosper with the persistency of a fixed idea, “I will avenge myself.”

“Well, avenge yourself like a man, and not like a child!” said M. Verduret angrily.

“Monsieur!”

“Yes, I repeat it, like a child.  What will you do after you get into the house?  Have you any arms?  No.  You rush upon Raoul, and a struggle ensues; while you two are fighting, Madeleine jumps in her carriage, and drives off.  What then?  Which is the stronger, you or Raoul?”

Overcome by the sense of his powerlessness, Prosper was silent.

“And arms would be of no use,” continued M. Verduret:  “it is fortunate you have none with you, for it would be very foolish to shoot a man whom you can send to the galleys.”

“What must I do?”

“Wait.  Vengeance is a delicious fruit, that must ripen in order that we may fully enjoy it.”

Prosper was unsettled in his resolution; M. Verduret seeing this brought forth his last and strongest argument.

“How do we know,” he said, “that Mlle. Madeleine is here on her own account?  Did we not come to the conclusion that she was sacrificing herself for the benefit of someone else?  That superior will which compelled her to banish you may have constrained this step to-night.”

That which coincides with our secret wishes is always eagerly welcomed.  This supposition, apparently improbable, struck Prosper as possibly true.

“That might be the case,” he murmured, “who knows?”

“I would soon know,” said M. Verduret, “if I could see them together in that room.”

“Will you promise me, monsieur, to tell me the exact truth, all that you see and hear, no matter how painful it may be for me?”

“I swear it, upon my word of honor.”

Then, with a strength of which a few minutes before he would not have believed himself possessed, Prosper raised the ladder, placed the last round on his shoulders, and said to M. Verduret: 

“Mount!”

M. Verduret rapidly ascended the ladder without even shaking it, and had his head on a level with the window.

Prosper had seen but too well.  There was Madeleine at this hour of the night, alone with Raoul de Lagors in his room!