“Why?⁠—are you so kind⁠—so good⁠—so unsuspicious of ill, that you cannot understand, Valentine?”

“No, I have never injured her.”

“But you are rich, Valentine; you have 200,000 livres a year, and you prevent her son from enjoying these 200,000 livres.”

“How so? The fortune is not her gift, but is inherited from my relations.”

“Certainly; and that is why M. and Madame de Saint-Méran have died; that is why M. Noirtier was sentenced the day he made you his heir; that is why you, in your turn, are to die⁠—it is because your father would inherit your property, and your brother, his only son, succeed to his.”

“Edward? Poor child! Are all these crimes committed on his account?”