He took the fork out of his waistcoat pocket, struck it, sang the note, and then took the octave above. "True, isn't it, Eugene?" he cried, laughingly. "As the tone of the steel itself," cried Eugene. "Let us try the garden bit in unison. Here's 'Faust.'" "Damn 'Faust'!" said Lavirotte. "Come on, I'll set you going: "The bright stars fade, the morn is breaking, The dew-drops pearl each bud and leaf, When I of thee my leave am taking, With bliss too brief." "No," said Eugene. "Not that. I remember----" "And do you think I forget?" CHAPTER XXI. This was the first note of discord which had been struck between the two since the memorable night of the encounter near the cove. It was struck deliberately by Lavirotte; O'Donnell could not guess why. "I will not sing," said Eugene. "What is the matter with you, Dominique? You seem to be in rather a brimstone humour to-day." "Ah," said Lavirotte, shaking his head grimly, "the treacle period has passed." "Nonsense," said Eugene, "a young man like you! You ought to be ashamed of yourself. A young man like you ought to be ashamed to give way to such gloomy fancies. Look at me. I have not got even one chance yet, and I have a wife and child depending on me." "Ay," said Lavirotte, "a wife and a child! And I have no wife, no child. I have earned a guinea, it is true, and you have earned nothing, since we came to London. It doesn't make much difference whether I ever earn another sovereign or not. What have I to live for? What do a hundred days mean to me? In a hundred days, even if I go and live at the tower, I shall be penniless." "And I," said O'Donnell, "long before a hundred days, shall be a pauper with my wife and child looking to me in vain for food. What would you do, Dominique, if you found yourself without money, and a wife and child asking you for bread?" "Cut my throat." "What? And leave them to starve?" "Well, cut their throats, and hang for them." "Men who talk about cutting their throats never do it." "I own I don't think it's worth doing in my case. When a man has no other way of making a stir in the world, he may get his name prominently before the public by committing a great crime against his neighbour, or a folly against himself. Eugene, I candidly own to you I am no hero. I am, in fact, a bit of a coward, as you may know; for, once upon a time, I did an unpardonably cowardly thing by you." "Hush, man!" cried Eugene, "have we not agreed to banish that subject for ever?" "To banish it from our talk, ay. To banish it from our minds, never."