And try to
speak the truth."
It was one of M. Wilkie's greatest boasts that he had an
indomitable will--an iron nature. But the viscount exercised
powerful influence over him, and, to tell the truth, inspired him
with a form of emotion which was nearly akin to fear. Moreover, a
glimmer of reason had at last penetrated his befogged brain: he
saw that M. de Coralth was right--that he had acted like a fool,
and that, if he hoped to escape from the dangers that threatened
him, he must take the advice of more experienced men than himself.
So, ceasing his recriminations, he began to describe what he
styled his explanation with Madame d'Argeles. All went well at
first; for he dared not misrepresent the facts.
But when he came to the intervention of the man who had prevented
him from striking his mother, he turned crimson, and rage again
filled his heart. "I'm sorry I let myself get into such a mess!"
he exclaimed. "You should have seen my condition. My shirt-
collar was torn, and my cravat hung in tatters. He was much
stronger than I--the contemptible scoundrel!--ah! if it hadn't
been for that---- But I shall have my revenge. Yes, he shall
learn that he can't trample a man under foot with impunity. To-
morrow two of my friends will call upon him; and if he refuses to
apologize or to give me satisfaction, I'll cane him."
It was evident enough that M.
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