M. de La Tour d'Azyr was the first to stir. Into his bewildered mind
came the memory of something that Mme. de Plougastel had said of
a letter that was on the table. He came forward, unhindered. The
announcement made, Mme. de Plougastel no longer feared the sequel, and
so she let him go. He walked unsteadily past this new-found son of his,
and took up the sheet that lay beside the candlebranch. A long moment
he stood reading it, none heeding him. Aline's eyes were all on
Andre-Louis, full of wonder and commiseration, whilst Andre-Louis was
staring down, in stupefied fascination, at his mother.

M. de La Tour d'Azyr read the letter slowly through. Then very quietly
he replaced it. His next concern, being the product of an artificial age
sternly schooled in the suppression of emotion, was to compose himself.
Then he stepped back to Mme. de Plougastel's side and stooped to raise
her.

"Therese," he said.

Obeying, by instinct, the implied command, she made an effort to rise
and to control herself in her turn. The Marquis half conducted, half
carried her to the armchair by the table.

Andre-Louis looked on. Still numbed and bewildered, he made no attempt
to assist. He saw as in a dream the Marquis bending over Mme. de
Plougastel. As in a dream he heard him ask:

"How long have you known this, Therese?"

"I... I have always known it... always. I confided him to Kercadiou. I
saw him once as a child... Oh, but what of that?"

"Why was I never told? Why did you deceive me? Why did you tell me that
this child had died a few days after birth? Why, Therese? Why?"

"I was afraid. I... I thought it better so--that nobody, nobody, not even
you, should know. And nobody has known save Quintin until last night,
when to induce him to come here and save me he was forced to tell him."

"But I, Therese?" the Marquis insisted. "It was my right to know."

"Your right? What could you have done? Acknowledge him? And then? Ha!"
It was a queer, desperate note of laughter. "There was Plougastel; there
was my family. And there was you... you, yourself, who had ceased to
care, in whom the fear of discovery had stifled love. Why should I have
told you, then? Why? I should not have told you now had there been
any other way to... to save you both. Once before I suffered just such
dreadful apprehensions when you and he fought in the Bois. I was on my
way to prevent it when you met me. I would have divulged the truth, as
a last resource, t