YANETTA. Did you suppose I was going to accuse him?

MOUZON. Have you ever been convicted?

YANETTA [_anxious_] Me?

Mouzon. Yes, you.

YANETTA [_weakly_] No, I've never been convicted.

Mouzon. That is curious because there was a girl of your name in Paris
who was sentenced to a month's imprisonment for receiving stolen
property.

YANETTA [_weakly_] For receiving stolen property--

MOUZON. You are not quite so bold now--you are disturbed.

YANETTA [_as before_] No--

MOUZON. You are pale--you are trembling--you are feeling faint. Give her
a chair, Benoit. [_The recorder obeys_] Pull yourself together!

YANETTA. My God, you know that?

MOUZON. Here is the report which has been sent me. "The woman Yanetta
X--was brought to Paris at the age of sixteen as companion or lady's
maid by Monsieur and Madame So-and-so, having been employed by them in
that capacity at Saint-Jean-de-Luz." Is that correct?

YANETTA. Yes.

MOUZON. Here is some more. "Illicit relations were before long formed
between the girl Yanetta and the son of the family, who was twenty-three
years of age. Two years later the lovers fled, taking with them eight
thousand francs which the young man had stolen from his father. On the
information of the latter the girl Yanetta was arrested and condemned to
one month's imprisonment for receiving stolen property. After serving
her sentence she disappeared. It is believed that she returned to her
own district." Are you the person mentioned here?

YANETTA. Yes. My God, I thought that was all so long ago--so completely
forgotten. It is all true, Monsieur, but for ten years now I've given
every minute of my life to making up for it, trying to redeem myself.
Just now I answered you insolently; I beg your pardon. You have not only
my life in your hands now, but my husband's, and the honor of my
children.

MOUZON. Does your husband know of this?

YANETTA. No, Monsieur. Oh, you aren't going to tell him! I beg you on my
knees! It would be wicked, I tell you, wicked! Listen, Monsieur--listen.
I came back to the country; I hid myself; I would rather have died; I
didn't want to stay in Paris--you understand why--and then in a little
while I lost mother. Etchepare was in love with me, and he bothered me
to marry him. I refused--I had the courage to go on refusing for three
years. Then--I was so lonely, so miserable, and he was so unhappy, that
in the end I gave way. I ought to have told him everything. I wanted