oice:

"MADAME!" she repeated. "Will you not call me mother?"

"Yes, of course--certainly. But--only you know it will take me some time
to acquire the habit. I shall do so, of course; but I shall have to get
used to it, you know."

"True, very true!--but tell me it is not mere pity that leads you to
make this promise? If you should hate me--if you should curse me--how
should I bear it! Ah! when a woman reaches the years of understanding
one should never cease repeating to her: 'Take care! Your son will be
twenty some day, and you will have to meet his searching gaze. You
will have to render an account of your honor to him!' My God! If women
thought of this, they would never sin. To be reduced to such a state of
abject misery that one dares not lift one's head before one's own son!
Alas! Wilkie, I know only too well that you cannot help despising me."

"No, indeed. Not at all! What an idea!"

"Tell me that you forgive me!"

"I do, upon my word I do."

Poor woman, her face brightened. She so longed to believe him! And her
son was beside her, so near that she felt his breath upon her cheek. It
was he indeed. Had they ever been separated? She almost doubted it, she
had lived so near him in thought. It was with a sort of ecstasy that she
looked at him. There was a world of entreaty in her eyes; they seemed
to be begging a caress; she raised her quivering lips to his, but he did
not observe it. For a long time she hesitated, fearing he might spurn
her; but at last, yielding to a supreme impulse, she threw her arms
around his neck, drew him toward her, and pressed him to her heart in
a close embrace. "My son! my son!" she repeated; "to have you with me
again, after all these years!"

Unfortunately, no whirlwind of passion was capable of carrying M. Wilkie
beyond himself. His emotion was now spent and his mind had regained
its usual indifference. He flattered himself that he was a man of
mettle--and he remained as cold as ice beneath his mother's kisses.
Indeed, he barely tolerated them; and if he did allow her to embrace
him, it was only because he did not know how to refuse. "Will she never
have done?" he thought. "This is a pretty state of things! I must be
very attractive. How Costard and Serpillon would laugh if they saw
me now." Costard and Serpillon were his intimate friends, the
co-proprietors of the famous steeplechaser.

In her rapture, however, Madame d'Argeles did not observe the peculiar
expression on he