“Sir,” said the nephew, “we have done wrong, and are reaping

the fruits of wrong.”

“We have done wrong?” repeated the Marquis, with an

inquiring smile, and delicately pointing, first to his nephew, then

Charles Dickens ElecBook Classics

to himself.

“Our family; our honourable family, whose honour is of so

much account to both of us, in such different ways. Even in my

father’s time, we did a world of wrong, injuring every human

creature who came between us and our pleasure, whatever it was.

Why need I speak of my father’s time, when it is equally yours?

Can I separate my father’s twin-brother, joint inheritor, and next

successor, from himself?”

“Death has done that!” said the Marquis.

“And has left me,” answered the nephew, “bound to a system

that is frightful to me, responsible for it, but powerless in it;

seeking to execute the last request of my dear mother’s lips, and

obey the last look of my dear mother’s eyes, which implored me to

have mercy and to redress; and tortured by seeking assistance and

power in vain.”

“Seeking them from me, my nephew,” said the Marquis,

touching him on the breast with his forefingerthey were now

standing by the hearth“you will for ever seek them in vain, be

assured.”

Every fine straight line in the clear whiteness of his face, was

cruelly, craftily, and closely compressed, while he stood looking

quietly at his nephew, with his snuff-box in his hand. Once again

he touched him on the breast, as though his finger were the fine

point of a small sword, with which, in delicate finesse, he ran him

through the body, and said, “My friend, I will die, perpetuating the

system under which I have lived.”

When he had said it, he took a culminating pinch of snuff, and

put his box in his pocket.

“Better to be a rational creature,” he added then, after ringing a

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small bell on the table, “and accept your natural destiny. But you

are lost, Monsieur Charles, I see.”

“This property and France are lost to me,” said the nephew,

sadly; “I renounce them.”

“Are they both yours to renounce? France may be, but is the

property? It is scarcely worth mentioning; but, is it yet?”

“I had no intention, in the words I used, to claim it yet. If it

passed to me from you, tomorrow”

“Which I have the vanity to hope is not probable.”

“or twenty years hence”

“You do me too much honour,” said the Marquis; “still, I prefer

that supposition.”

“I would abandon it, and live otherwise and elsewhere. It is

little to relinquish. What is it but a wilderness of misery and ruin!”

“Hah!” said the Marquis, glancing round the luxurious room.