“Otherwise?” inquired Pierce, aggressively.

“What is the use of threats?” replied Serge, already calmed.  “Excuse me; I know that you will not tell; if not for my sake at least for that of others.”

“Yes, for others,” said Pierre, passionately; “for others whom you have basely sacrificed, and who deserve all your respect and love; for Madame Desvarennes, whose high intelligence you have not been able to understand; for Micheline, whose tender heart you have not been able to appreciate.  Yes, for their sakes I will hold my peace, not out of regard for you, because you neither deserve consideration nor esteem.”

The Prince advanced a step, and exclaimed: 

“Pierre!”

Pierre did not move, and looking Serge in the face, continued: 

“The truth is unpleasant to you, still you must hear it.  You act according to your fancies.  Principles and morals, to which all men submit, are dead letters to you.  Your own pleasure above all things, and always!  That is your rule, eh? and so much the worse if ruin and trouble to others are the consequences?  You only have to deal with two women, and you profit by it.  But I warn you that if you continue to crush them I will be their defender.”

Serge had listened to all this with disdainful impassibility, and when Pierre had finished, he smiled, snapped his fingers, and turning toward the young man: 

“My dear fellow,” said he, “allow me to tell you that I think you are very impertinent.  You come here meddling with my affairs.  What authority have you?  Are you a relative?  A connection?  By what right do you preach this sermon?”

As he concluded, Serge seated himself and laughed with a careless air.

Pierre answered, gravely: 

“I was betrothed to Micheline when she saw and loved you:  that is my right!  I could have married her, but sacrificed my love to hers:  that is my authority!  And it is in the name of my shattered hopes and lost happiness that I call you to account for her future peace.”

Serge had risen, he was deeply embittered at what Delarue had just told him, and was trying to recover his calmness.  Pierre, trembling with emotion and anger, was also striving to check their influence.

“It seems to me,” said the Prince, mockingly, “that in your claim there is more than the outcry of an irritated conscience; it is the complaint of a heart that still loves.”

“And if that were so?” retorted Pierre.  “Yes, I love her, but with a pious love, from the depth of my soul, as one would love a saint; and I only suffer the more to see her suffering.”

Somewhat irritated the Prince exclaimed, impatiently: 

“Oh, don’t let us have a lyric recitation; let us be brief and clear.  What do you want?  Explain yourself.  I don’t suppose that you have addressed this rebuke to me solely for the purpose of telling me that you are in love with my wife!”