ir and whirled it over his head.

Henriette walked quickly across the room, took her lover by the arm,
dragged him from the wall, to which he appeared fixed, and led him toward
the door, saying: "Do come, my friend--you see that the man is mad.
Do come!"

As she went out she turned round to her husband, trying to think of
something that she could do, something that she could invent to wound him
to the heart as she left the house, and an idea struck her, one of those
venomous, deadly ideas in which all a woman's perfidy shows itself, and
she said resolutely: "I am going to take my child with me."

Parent was stupefied, and stammered: "Your--your--child? You
dare to talk of your child? You venture--you venture to ask for your
child--after-after--Oh, oh, that is too much! Go, you vile
creature! Go!"

She went up to him again, almost smiling, almost avenged already, and
defying him, standing close to him, and face to face, she said: "I want
my child, and you have no right to keep him, because he is not
yours--do you understand? He is not yours! He is Limousin's!"

And Parent cried out in bewilderment: "You lie--you lie--worthless
woman!"

But she continued: "You fool! Everybody knows it except you. I tell you,
this is his father. You need only look at him to see it."

Parent staggered backward, and then he suddenly turned round, took a
candle, and rushed into the next room; returning almost immediately,
carrying little George wrapped up in his bedclothes. The child, who had
been suddenly awakened, was crying from fright. Parent threw him into his
wife's arms, and then, without speaking, he pushed her roughly out toward
the stairs, where Limousin was waiting, from motives of prudence.

Then he shut the door again, double-locked and bolted it, but had
scarcely got back into the drawing-room when he fell to the floor at full
length.

Parent lived alone, quite alone. During the five weeks that followed
their separation, the feeling of surprise at his new life prevented him
from thinking much. He had resumed his bachelor life, his habits of
lounging, about, and took his meals at a restaurant, as he had done
formerly. As he wished to avoid any scandal, he made his wife an
allowance, which was arranged by their lawyers. By degrees, however, the
thought of the child began to haunt him. Often, when he was at home alone
at night, he suddenly thought he heard George calling out "Papa," and his
heart would begin to beat, and