"I didn't have much confidence in you. You received such idiots: my
father-in-law, Granoux, and the others!--And then, I didn't want to go
too far. . . ." He hesitated, and then resumed, with some uneasiness:
"To-day you are at least quite sure of the success of the Coup d'Etat,
aren't you?"
"I!" cried Felicite, wounded by her son's doubts; "no, I'm not sure of
anything."
"And yet you sent word to say that I was to take off my sling!"
"Yes; because all the gentlemen are laughing at you."
Aristide remained stock still, apparently contemplating one of the
flowers of the orange-coloured wall-paper. And his mother felt sudden
impatience as she saw him hesitating thus.
"Ah! well," she said, "I've come back again to my former opinion; you're
not very shrewd. And you think you ought to have had Eugene's letters
to read? Why, my poor fellow you would have spoilt everything, with
your perpetual vacillation. You never can make up your mind. You are
hesitating now."
"I hesitate?" he interrupted, giving his mother a cold, keen glance.
"Ah! well, you don't know me. I would set the whole town on fire if it
were necessary, and I wanted to warm my feet. But, understand me, I've
no desire to take the wrong road! I'm tired of eating hard bread, and I
hope to play fortune a trick. But I only play for certainties."
He spoke these words so sharply, with such a keen longing for success,
that his mother recognised the cry of her own blood.
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