"Oh, it is Leroux you speak of? Yes, I confess I lost my temper, and
when that is the case I become terrible. Bah, he is nothing; let him do
his worst. But, Monsieur Bourget, what is of consequence is this
frightful affair at Poissy--all, of course, either a mistake or a vile
conspiracy. The idea that Monsieur de Beaudrillart--Monsieur de
Beaudrillart!--should be accused of such an act is simply impossible! I
could not credit it until I had been out there."
M. Bourget made no response to this outburst. He frowned, drew in his
lips, and stared stolidly at the ground.
"Your daughter, too, poor young lady, what she must be enduring! And as
for the baron, it is enough to have led him to kill himself."
Still gloomy silence.
"Monsieur Bourget, is there nothing you can suggest? You are a man of
resource. If there was anything I could assist in carrying out, I
cannot tell you what infinite gratification it would be to me." He
stopped, for M. Bourget had risen, struck his stick on the ground, and
broken out in a thunderous undertone:
"Nothing, monsieur, nothing. I renounce Poissy, the baron, and my
daughter. If by lifting my little finger I could save Monsieur de
Beaudrillart from prison, I would not lift it, and I request you to be
good enough not to mention their names to me again."