ve far-reaching effects?
Then, as she closely scanned him with her keen eyes, he sought to answer
her with kind, evasive words.

"You greatly embarrass me. And, besides, I know nothing likely to
interest you. What good would it do yourself or your husband to stir
up all the dead past? Take my advice, forget what people may have told
you--you are so sensible and prudent--"

But she interrupted him, caught hold of his hands, and held them in her
warm, quivering grasp. Never before had she so behaved, forgetting and
surrendering herself so passionately. "I repeat," said she, "that nobody
has anything to fear from me--neither my husband, nor that girl, nor
the child. Cannot you understand me? I am simply tormented; I suffer at
knowing nothing. Yes, it seems to me that I shall feel more at ease when
I know the truth. It is for myself that I question you, for my own peace
of mind.... Ah! if I could only tell you, if I could tell you!"

He began to divine many things; it was unnecessary for her to be more
explicit. He knew that during the past year she and her husband had been
hoping for the advent of a second child, and that none had come. As a
woman, Constance felt no jealousy of Norine, but as a mother she was
jealous of her son. She could not drive the thought of that child from
her mind; it ever and ever returned thither like a mocking insult now
that her hopes of replacing Maurice were fading fast. Day by day did
she dream more and more passionately of the other woman's son, wondering
where he was, what had become of him, whether he were healthy, and
whether he resembled his father.

"I assure you, my dear Mathieu," she resumed, "that you will really
bring me relief by answering me. Is he alive? Tell me simply whether he
is alive. But do not tell me a lie. If he is dead I think that I shall
feel calmer. And yet, good heavens! I certainly wish him no evil."

Then Mathieu, who felt deeply touched, told her the simple truth.

"Since you insist on it, for the benefit of your peace of mind, and
since it is to remain entirely between us and to have no effect on your
home, I see no reason why I should not confide to you what I know. But
that is very little. The child was left at the Foundling Hospital in
my presence. Since then the mother, having never asked for news, has
received none. I need not add that your husband is equally ignorant,
for he always refused to have anything to do with the child. Is the lad
still alive