Then for a time I was in need, almost destitute, and
my pride forbade me, after what I had done and the view you must
take of it, to appeal to you for help. Later... "
"Destitute?" The Seigneur interrupted. For a moment his lip
trembled. Then he steadied himself, and the frown deepened as he
surveyed this very changed and elegant godson of his, noted the
quiet richness of his apparel, the paste buckles and red heels to
his shoes, the sword hilted in mother-o'-pearl and silver, and the
carefully dressed hair that he had always seen hanging in wisps
about his face. "At least you do not look destitute now," he
sneered.
"I am not. I have prospered since. In that, monsieur, I differ
from the ordinary prodigal, who returns only when he needs
assistance. I return solely because I love you, monsieur - to tell
you so. I have come at the very first moment after hearing of your
presence here." He advanced. "Monsieur my godfather!" he said,
and held out his hand.
But M. de Kercadiou remained unbending, wrapped in his cold dignity
and resentment.
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