on but also incapacity for this new industry.
Consequently my uncle looked upon me as useless, and began to maltreat
me again. They would have driven me away had they not been afraid that
I might make my peace with society, and become a dangerous enemy to
themselves. While they were in doubt as to whether it was wiser to
feed me or to live in fear of me, they often thought (as I have since
learned) of picking a quarrel with me, and forcing a fight in which I
might be got rid of. This was John's suggestion. Antony, however, who
retained more of Tristan's energy and love of fair play at home than any
of his brothers, proved clearly that I did more good than harm. I was,
he declared, a brave fighter, and there was no knowing when they might
need an extra hand. I might also be shaped into a swindler. I was very
young and very ignorant; but John, perhaps, would endeavour to win me
over by kindness, and make my lot less wretched. Above all, he might
enlighten me as to my true position, by explaining that I was an
outcast from society, and could not return to it without being hanged
immediately. Then, perhaps, my obstinacy and pride would give way, out
of regard to my own well-being on the one hand, and from necessity on
the other. At all events, they should try this before getting rid of me.

"For," said Antony to round off his homily, "we were ten Mauprats last
year; our father is dead, and, if we kill Bernard, we shall only be
eight."

This argument gained the day. They brought me forth from the species of
dungeon in which I had languished for several months; they gave me new
clothes; they exchanged my old gun for a beautiful carbine that I had
always coveted; they explained to me my position in the world; they
honoured me with the best wine at meals. I promised to reflect, and
meanwhile, became rather more brutalized by inaction and drunkenness
than I had been by brigandage.

However, my captivity had made such a terrible impression on me that
I took a secret oath to dare any dangers that might assail me on the
territories of the King of France, rather than endure a repetition of
that hideous experience. Nothing but a miserable point of honour now
kept me at Roche-Mauprat. It was evident that a storm was gathering over
our heads. The peasants were discontented, in spite of all our
efforts to attach them to us; doctrines of independence were secretly
insinuating themselves into their midst; our most faithful retainers
we