You will go to England, install yourself
in some pretty cottage near London, and create a new identity for
yourself. The proceeds of your sale will supply your wants and
Wilkie's for more than a year. Before that time has elapsed you
will have succeeded in accumulating the necessary proofs of your
identity, and then you can assert your claims and take possession
of your brother's estate."
Madame d'Argeles sprang to her feet. "Never never!" she
exclaimed, vehemently.
The baron evidently thought he must have misunderstood her.
"What!" he stammered; "you will relinquish the millions that are
legally yours, to the government?"
"Yes--I am resolved--it must be so."
"Will you sacrifice your son's future in this style?"
"No, it isn't in my power to do that; but Wilkie will do so,
later, on, I'm sure of it."
"But this is simply folly."
A feverish agitation had now succeeded Madame d'Argeles's torpor;
there was an expression of scorn and anger on her rigid features,
and her eyes, usually so dull and lifeless, fairly blazed. "It is
not folly," she exclaimed, "but vengeance!" And as the astonished
baron opened his lips to question her: "Let me finish," she said
imperiously, "and then you shall judge me. I have told you with
perfect frankness everything concerning my past life, save this--
this--that I am married, Monsieur le Baron, legally married.
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