Then I go away, and I am gone five years; yes." Shangois came over, and with his thin beautiful hand (for despite the ill-kept finger nails, it was the one fine feature of his body-long, shapely, artistic) tapped Castine's knee.
"I did right to save Christine.

She hates you now.

If she had gone with you that night, do you suppose she would have been happy as your wife?
No, she is not for Vanne Castine." Suddenly Shangois's manner changed; he laid his hand upon the other's shoulder.
"My poor, wicked, good-for-nothing Vanne Castine, Christine Lavilette was not made for you.

You are a poor vaurien, always a poor vaurien.

I knew your father and your two grandfathers.