the duchess and of Lord Holland, had not been bequeathed to the duke.

He enjoyed absolute control of this enormous fortune; he disposed of
the capital and of the immense revenues to please himself; but it all
belonged to his son--to his only son.

The duke possessed nothing--a pitiful income of twelve hundred francs,
perhaps; but, strictly speaking, not even the means of subsistence.

Martial, certainly, had never said a word which would lead him to
suspect that he had any intention of removing his property from his
father's control; but he might possibly utter this word.

Had he not good reason to believe that sooner or later this fatal word
would be uttered?

And even at the thought of such a contingency he shuddered with horror.

He saw himself reduced to a pension, a very handsome pension,
undoubtedly, but still a fixed, immutable, regular pension, by which he
would be obliged to regulate his expenditures.

He would be obliged to calculate that two ends might meet--he, who had
been accustomed to inexhaustible coffers.

"And this will necessarily happen sooner or later," he thought. "If
Martial should marry, or if he should become ambitious, or meet with
evil counsellors, that will be the end of my reign."

He watched and studied his son as a jealous woman studies and watches