ossible. As for me, all was over. He wrote to me, reproaching me, and
it broke my heart. I did not reply to his letter. I went back to Paris,
where I lived quietly and unknown, devoting myself entirely to you....
Six months later I heard that he had married a Princess according to the
will of the Czar, and that he was appointed captain.'

"'Is he happy?'

"'I have never heard another word about him, and as he has no idea of my
whereabouts, he could never have made inquiries about me. Now you know
all, you know the cause of my sadness and the secret of your birth. You
must now judge between your father and your mother, and either pardon or
condemn us, for, alas! my poor boy, you have no name and no future.'

"My poor mother hid her face in her hands and sobbed in an agony of
grief.

"'I have nothing to forgive, mother; but if you wish me to judge my
father and you, I can only say that you both did your duty and that your
sacrifice was sublime. Society makes laws at its own pleasure, but in
the sight of God, who surely is over all, your marriage was valid, and I
have nothing to be ashamed of. On the contrary, you were both victims,
and you suffered through your loyalty to each other--and your love was
surely truer and more ideal than many which society recognises.'

"My poor mother could not speak for some time, her emotion was so great.
Later on she told me where I should find some papers, which I was to
read after her death, and she added:--

"'You will also find in the same drawer two things by which your father
would always recognise you, if you should ever meet him and if you
wished to make yourself known. I leave it entirely to you to act as you
think best; but if you ever should see him, tell him that I was true to
him, explain all, and tell him that I loved him to the last.'

"Two days later my poor mother passed away. I was thus left an orphan
and nameless. I was utterly alone in the world. I had not a creature to
love me, and I knew that I must never dare to love anyone. Left to
myself, I cursed the whole world and its prejudices and baseness."

Gauthier covered his face with his hand, and Saussier, respecting his
friend's grief, did not speak for some time. The two officers walked on
through the snow without noticing where they were going.

Suddenly Gauthier said, bitterly: "You understand now the cause of the
melancholy that is always weighing on me?"

"I do, indeed," replied Saussier.

"The tortur