ng to his feet propelled from Andre's side by the violence
of his emotions. It was as if the very suggestion filled him with
horror. "I was the only other one who knew. But it is not as you think,
Andre. You cannot imagine that I should lie to you, that I should deny
you if you were my son?"

"If you say that I am not, monsieur, that is sufficient."

"You are not. I was Therese's cousin and also, as she well knew, her
truest friend. She knew that she could trust me; and it was to me she
came for help in her extremity. Once, years before, I would have married
her. But, of course, I am not the sort of man a woman could love. She
trusted, however, to my love for her, and I have kept her trust."

"Then, who was my father?"

"I don't know. She never told me. It was her secret, and I did not pry.
It is not in my nature, Andre."

Andre-Louis got up, and stood silently facing M. de Kercadiou.

"You believe me, Andre."

"Naturally, monsieur; and I am sorry, I am sorry that I am not your
son."

M. de Kercadiou gripped his godson's hand convulsively, and held it
a moment with no word spoken. Then as they fell away from each other
again:

"And now, what will you do, Andre?" he asked. "Now that you know?"

Andre-Louis stood awhile, considering, then broke into laughter. The
situation had its humours. He explained them.

"What difference should the knowledge make? Is filial piety to be called
into existence by the mere announcement of relationship? Am I to risk
my neck through lack of circumspection on behalf of a mother so very
circumspect that she had no intention of ever revealing herself? The
discovery rests upon the merest chance, upon a fall of the dice of Fate.
Is that to weigh with me?"

"The decision is with you, Andre."

"Nay, it is beyond me. Decide it who can, I cannot."

"You mean that you refuse even now?"

"I mean that I consent. Since I cannot decide what it is that I should
do, it only remains for me to do what a son should. It is grotesque; but
all life is grotesque."

"You will never, never regret it."

"I hope not," said Andre. "Yet I think it very likely that I shall.
And now I had better see Rougane again at once, and obtain from him the
other two permits required. Then perhaps it will be best that I take
them to Paris myself, in the morning. If you will give me a bed,
monsieur, I shall be grateful. I... I confess that I am hardly in case
to do more to-night."

CHAPTER XIII. SANCT