“And you come and tell me this to-day, after thirty years, and God knows
under what circumstances!”
“Yes, after thirty years. Eternity might pass over these recollections,
and it would not efface them. And, but for these circumstances to which
you refer, I should never have said any thing. At the time to which I
allude, I had to choose between two evils,--either to be ridiculous, or
to be hated. I preferred to keep silence, and not to inquire too far.
My happiness was gone; but I wished to save my peace. We have lived
together on excellent terms; but there has always been between us this
high wall, this suspicion. As long as I was doubtful, I kept silent. But
now, when the facts confirm my doubts, I say again, ‘Jacques is no son
of mine!’”
Overcome with grief, shame, and indignation, the Marchioness de
Boiscoran was wringing her hands; then she cried,--
“What a humiliation! What you are saying is too horrible. It is unworthy
of you to add this terrible suffering to the martyrdom which I am
enduring.”