“Lafcadio Wluiki,” went on Juste-Agénor, when he had raised himself, “my days are numbered. I shall not fence with you--it would be too fatiguing. I am willing to grant that you are not stupid; I am glad that you are not ugly. There is a touch of boldness in this venture of yours which is not unbecoming. I thought at first it was impudence, but your voice, your manner reassure me. As to other things, I asked my son Julius to report to me, but I find that I take no great interest in them--it was more important to see you. Now, Lafcadio, listen. There is not a single document of any sort in existence which testifies to your identity. I have been careful to leave you no possibility of making any claims. No, don’t protest. It’s useless. Don’t interrupt me. Your silence up to now is a sign that your mother kept her word not to speak of me to you. Very good. In accordance with the promise I made her, you shall have material proof of my gratitude. In spite of legal difficulties, you will receive at the hands of my son Julius that share of my inheritance which I told your mother should be reserved for you. That is to say, I shall increase my son Julius’s legacy by the amount by which the law permits me to reduce that of my other child, the Countess Guy de Saint-Prix--which is actually the exact sum I mean him to pass on to you. It will, I think, come to ... let us say about forty thousand francs[B] a year. But I must see my solicitor and go into the exact figures with him.... Sit down, you will listen more comfortably.” (Lafcadio had leant for a breathing-space on the edge of the table.) “Julius may make objections; the law is on his side; but I count on his fairness not to--and I count on yours never to trouble Julius’s family, just as your mother never troubled mine. As far as Julius is concerned, the only person who exists is Lafcadio Wluiki. I don’t wish you to wear mourning for me. My child, the institution of the family is a closed thing. You will never be anything but a bastard.” Lafcadio, who had been caught by his father’s glance in the act of staggering, had nevertheless refused the invitation to be seated. He had already overcome the swimming of his brain and was now leaning on the table on which were placed the cup and the spirit lamp. His attitude remained highly deferential. “Now, tell me--you saw my son Julius this morning? Did he tell you ...?” “He told me nothing. I guessed.” “Clumsy fellow!... Oh! I don’t mean _you_.... Are you to see him again?” “He asked me to be his secretary.” “Have you accepted?” “Do you object?” “No. But I think it would be better for you not to recognise each other.” “I thought so too. But without recognising him exactly, I should like to get to know him a little.” “I suppose, though, that you don’t mean to fill a subordinate position like that for long?” “Just long enough to look round.” “And after that what do you think of doing, now that you are well off?”