," he said again; and added now, "Of course, any but a fool would
have guessed it long ago."

It was M. de Kercadiou who cried out, M. de Kercadiou who recoiled as
from a blow.

"My God, Andre, of what are you made? You can take such an announcement
in this fashion?"

"And how would you have me take it? Should it surprise me to discover
that I had a mother? After all, a mother is an indispensable necessity
to getting one's self born."

He sat down abruptly, to conceal the too-revealing fact that his limbs
were shaking. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to mop his
brow, which had grown damp. And then, quite suddenly, he found himself
weeping.

At the sight of those tears streaming silently down that face that had
turned so pale, M. de Kercadiou came quickly across to him. He sat down
beside him and threw an arm affectionately over his shoulder.

"Andre, my poor lad," he murmured. "I... I was fool enough to think you
had no heart. You deceived me with your infernal pretence, and now I
see... I see..." He was not sure what it was that he saw, or else he
hesitated to express it.

"It is nothing, monsieur. I am tired out, and... and I have a cold in
the head." And then, finding the part beyond his power, he abruptly
threw it up, utterly abandoned all pretence. "Why... why has there been
all this mystery?" he asked. "Was it intended that I should never know?"

"It was, Andre. It... it had to be, for prudence' sake."

"But why? Complete your confidence, sir. Surely you cannot leave it
there. Having told me so much, you must tell me all."

"The reason, my boy, is that you were born some three years after your
mother's marriage with M. de Plougastel, some eighteen months after M.
de Plougastel had been away with the army, and some four months before
his return to his wife. It is a matter that M. de Plougastel has never
suspected, and for gravest family reasons must never suspect. That is
why the utmost secrecy has been preserved. That is why none was ever
allowed to know. Your mother came betimes into Brittany, and under an
assumed name spent some months in the village of Moreau. It was while
she was there that you were born."

Andre-Louis turned it over in his mind. He had dried his tears. And sat
now rigid and collected.

"When you say that none was ever allowed to know, you are telling me, of
course, that you, monsieur..."

"Oh, mon Dieu, no!" The denial came in a violent outburst. M. de
Kercadiou spra