“I should not have supposed, sir,” replied the boy, blushing very deeply, partly it might be from the nature of the subject under discussion, and partly from the strength of his emotions, “that any cavalier could have regarded it otherwise. It seems to me that to betray a friend’s honor is a far blacker thing than to betray his life--and surely no man with one pretension to honor would attempt to justify that.” “I am happy to see, Raoul, that you think so correctly on this point. Hold to your creed, my dear boy, for there are who shall try ere long to shake it. But be sure that it is the creed of honor. But, although I think La Rochederrien disgraced himself even in this, it was not for this only that I termed him, as I deem him, the very vilest and most infamous of mankind. For when he had led that poor lady into sin; when she had surrendered herself up wholly to his honor; when she had placed the greatest trust--although a guilty trust, I admit--in his faith and integrity that one human being can place in another, the base dog betrayed her. He boasted of her weakness, of Kerguelen’s dishonor, of his own infamy.” “And did not they to whom he boasted of it,” exclaimed the noble boy, his face flushing fiery red with excitement and indignation, “spurn him at once from their presence, as a thing unworthy and beyond the pale of law.” “No, Raoul, they laughed at him, applauded his gallant success, and jeered at the lord of Kerguelen.” “Great heaven! and these were gentlemen!” “They were called such, at least; gentlemen by name and descent they were assuredly, but as surely not right gentlemen at heart. Many of them, however, in cooler moments, spoke of the traitor and the braggart with the contempt and disgust he merited. Some friend of Kerguelen’s heard what had passed, and deemed it his duty to inform him. The most unhappy husband called the seducer to the field, wounded him mortally, and--to increase yet more his infamy--even in the agony of death the slave confessed the whole, and craved forgiveness like a dog. Confessed the _woman’s crime_--you mark me, Raoul!--had he died mute, or died even with a falsehood in his mouth, as I think he was bound to do in such extremity, affirming her innocence with his last breath, he had saved her, and perhaps spared her wretched lord the misery of knowing certainly the depth of his dishonor.” The boy pondered for a moment or two without making any answer; and although he was evidently not altogether satisfied, probably would not have again spoken, had not his father, who read what was passing in his mind, asked him what it was that he desired to know further. Raoul smiled at perceiving how completely his father understood him, and then said at once, without pause or hesitation:--