he position, an insolent satisfaction in
its contempt for appearances, a flaunting insolence in the nakedness
with which it affronts the decencies of life.

These ideas in a hypocrite appear to be inconsistent, but in reality are
not. All infamy is logical. Honey is gall. A character like that of
Escobar has some affinity with that of the Marquis de Sade. In proof, we
have Leotade. A hypocrite, being a personification of vice complete,
includes in himself the two poles of perversity. Priest-like on one
side, he resembles the courtesan on the other. The sex of his diabolical
nature is double. It engenders and transforms itself. Would you see it
in its pleasing shape? Look at it. Would you see it horrible? Turn it
round.

All this multitude of ideas was floating confusedly in Clubin's mind. He
analysed them little, but he felt them much.

A whirlwind of flakes of fire borne up from the pit of hell into the
dark night, might fitly represent the wild succession of ideas in his
soul.

Clubin remained thus some time pensive and motionless. He looked down
upon his cast-off virtues as a serpent on its old skin.

Everybody had had faith in that virtue; even he himself a little.

He laughed again.

Society would imagine him dead, while he was rich. They would believe
him drowned, while he was saved. What a capital trick to have played off
on the stupidity of the world.

Rantaine, too, was included in that universal stupidity. Clubin thought
of Rantaine with an unmeasured disdain: the disdain of the marten for
the tiger. The trick had failed with Rantaine; it had succeeded with
him.--Rantaine had slunk away abashed; Clubin disappeared in triumph. He
had substituted himself for Rantaine--stepped between him and his
mistress, and carried off her favours.

As to the future, he had no well-settled plan. In the iron tobacco-box
in his girdle he had the three bank-notes. The knowledge of that fact
was enough. He would change his name. There are plenty of countries
where sixty thousand francs are equal to six hundred thousand. It would
be no bad solution to go to one of those corners of the world, and live
there honestly on the money disgorged by that scoundrel Rantaine. To
speculate, to embark in commerce, to increase his capital, to become
really a millionaire, that, too, would be no bad termination to his
career.

For example. The great trade in coffee from Costa Rica was just
beginning to be developed. There were heaps o