“But why do you not fire, sir? Why do you not fire? Are you afraid of
blood? Shoot! I have been the lover of your wife: your youngest daughter
is my child.”
The count lowered his weapon.
“The courts of justice are more certain,” he said. “You have robbed me
of my honor: now I want yours. And, if you cannot be condemned without
it, I shall say, I shall swear, that I recognized you. You shall go to
the galleys, M. de Boiscoran.”
He was on the point of coming forward; but his strength was exhausted,
and he fell forward, face downward, and arms outstretched.
Overcome with horror, half mad, Jacques fled.