"
This anger, which succeeded such deep grief--this outburst of
disdain, following such abject humility--considerably astonished
M. Wilkie. "Allow me to ask----" he began.
But he was not allowed a hearing. "Fool!" continued Madame
d'Argeles, "did nothing warn you that in coming here you would
deprive yourself forever of the income you received? Did no inward
voice tell you that all would be changed when you compelled me,
Lia d'Argeles, to say, 'Well, yes, it is true; you are my son? '
So long as you did not know who and what I was, I had a mother's
right to watch over you. I could help you without disgracing you,
without despising you. But now that you know me, and know what I
am, I can do nothing more for you--nothing! I would rather let you
starve than succor you, for I would rather see you dead than
dishonored by my money."
"But--"
"What! would you still consent to receive the allowance I have
made you, even if I consented to continue it?"
Had a viper raised its head in M. Wilkie's path he would not have
recoiled more quickly. "Never!" he exclaimed. "Ah, no! What do
you take me for?"
This repugnance was sincere; there could be no doubt of that, and
it seemed to give Madame d'Argeles a ray of hope. "I have
misjudged him," she thought. "Poor Wilkie! Evil advice has led
him astray; but he is not bad at heart. In that case, my poor
child," she said aloud, "you must see that a new life is about to
commence for you.
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