7. CHAPTER VII.
FATHER AND SON.
For a moment Ernest was stupified and
speechless, and his glaring eyes were fixed
upon M. Duval his father.
`Did I hear correctly?' he muttered,
stepping abruptly forward. `You say you
are my father?'
`I am, said Duval firmly.
`Then hear me!' pursued the young man,
in a passionate whisper. `I have sworn to
punish the betrayer of my mother; for he
acted basely, cowardly: and, Monsieur, if
you are he, I insult and defy you on the
spot!'
`How?' cried Duval, starting to his feet.
`You are a coward!' exclaimed Ernest,
fiercely.
The fiery blood of rage mounted to the
brow of M. Duval; he trembled with passion,
strode furiously towards Ernest, but
restrained himself because he was his son!
`Young man,' he said, calmly, after a
pause. `I see that you would seek a quarrel
with me, but insult me as you will, I cannot
forget that I am your father.'
`By heavens!' exclaimed Ernest bitterly,
`the memory of the relationship returns
upon your mind at a most happy moment,
since you can use it as a smooth excuse for
your cowardice. But why, may I ask, did
you never think of this when I was starving
with my mother in a miserable garret—
when your son, as you call me, was in want
of the necessaries of life?' Your son!' continued
the young man, striking the table
fiercely; `yes! and for that very reason,
your mortal enemy! now that I have
found you out, my mother's wrongs shall
not go unavenged!'
'Calm yourself, young man,' said Duval
recovering his self-possession. `This is a
subject which should not be handled rashly.
In the first place, consider that, in spite
of all your taunts and insults, I will never
raise my hand against you.'
`Because I am your son and because you
regard me with paternal tenderness!' said
Ernest, with a sneer.
`I repeat it: I will never fight with you,'
pursued Duval. `I will not take your life,
neither shall you take mine. Nay, do not
start, but hear me. I acknowledge that I
have done wrong, and that you have a right
to hate me—to punish me; but my blood
shall not be on your head. If heaven wills
it, I will die, but not by the hands of a
son.'
`If heaven wills it—'
`Yes; if heaven wills it, I will terminate
my own existence—punish myself. Here is
a chess-board; let us play a game. If you
win, in less than twenty four-hours I shall
be no more; if you lose, swear to pursue me
no farther with your vengeance.'
Ernest hesitated for a moment.'
`It is well!' he exclaimed, at length;
`let us play.'
The chess-men were soon arranged. Both
were excellent players, and now they exerted
all their skill, for it was a fearful game—
a game of life and death! Intensely did
Ernest study the position of the blocks, for
he thought of his mother's wrongs; but he
was less calm than Duval, and therefore
Duval won!
`Lost!' muttered the young man, after
contemplating the last and decisive move of
his adversary—`lost! and it is well, for now
that I think of it, I could not kill you, for
you are Marie's father!'
'Beware!' cried Ernest: 'for if you seek
thus to remind me of your relationship, I may
yet forget myself, and break my word. The
game is played. Adieu!'
