The young fellow’s face turned livid; and instinctively he clenched his fists. But the words he uttered were the more impressive as his voice was calm and low. “It is just because I do remember my father that I am determined justice shall be done. Ah! these wretched nobles wouldn’t display such audacity if all sons had my will and determination. A scoundrel like the Duke de Sairmeuse would hesitate before he attacked an honest man if he were only obliged to say to himself: ‘If I wrong this man, and even should I kill him, I cannot escape retributive justice, for his children will surely call me to account. Their vengeance will fall on me and mine; they will pursue us by day and night, at all hours and in all seasons. We must ever fear their hatred for they will be implacable and merciless. I shall never leave my house without fear of a bullet; never lift food to my lips without dread of poison. And until I and mine have succumbed, these avengers will prowl round about our home threatening us at every moment with death, dishonour, ruin, infamy, and misery!’” The young fellow paused, laughed nervously, and then, in a still slower voice, he added: “That is what the Sairmeuses and the Courtornieus have to expect from me.” It was impossible to mistake the import of these words. Jean Lacheneur’s threats were not the wild ravings of anger. His was a cold, deep-set premeditated desire for vengeance which would last as long as he lived--and he took good care that his sister should understand him, for between his teeth he added: “Undoubtedly these people are very high, and I am very low; but when a tiny insect pierces the root of a giant oak, that tree is doomed.”