me the whole truth.
Explain this silence, and this absence prolonged beyond all expectation.
You finished your business with Madame de Lamotte several days ago: once
again, why did she not write? There is no letter, either from her or my
son! To-morrow I shall send someone to Paris."

"Good heavens!" answered Derues, "is there nothing but an accident
which could cause this delay?... Well, then," he continued, with the
embarrassed look of a man compelled to betray a confidence,--"well,
then, I see that in order to reassure you, I shall have to give up a
secret entrusted to me."

He then told Monsieur de Lamotte that his wife was no longer at Paris,
but at Versailles, where she was endeavouring to obtain an important and
lucrative appointment, and that, if she had left him in ignorance of
her efforts in this direction; it was only to give him an agreeable
surprise. He added that she had removed her son from the school, and
hoped to place him either in the riding school or amongst the royal
pages. To prove his words, he opened his paper-case, and produced the
letter written by Edouard in answer to the one quoted above.

All this was related so simply, and with such an appearance of good
faith, that the cure was quite convinced. And to Monsieur de Lamotte the
plans attributed to his wife were not entirely improbably. Derues had
learnt indirectly that such a career for Edouard had been actually under
consideration. However, though Monsieur de Lamotte's entire ignorance
prevented him from making any serious objection, his fears were not
entirely at rest, but for the present he appeared satisfied with the
explanation.

The cure resumed the conversation. "What you tell us ought to drive away
gloomy ideas. Just now, when you were announced, Monsieur de Lamotte was
confiding his troubles to me. I was as concerned as he was, and I could
say nothing to help him; never did visitor arrive more apropos. Well,
my friend, what now remains of your vain terrors? What was it you
were saying just as Monsieur Derues arrived?... Ah! we were discussing
dreams, you asked if I believed in them."

Monsieur, de Lamotte, who had sunk back in his easy-chair and seemed
lost in his reflections, started on hearing these words. He raised his
head and looked again at Derues. But the latter had had time to note the
impression produced by the cure's remark, and this renewed examination
did not disturb him.

"Yes," said Monsieur de Lamotte, "I had a