e matter."

"Yes, sir--"

"What, madame?"

"Suppose some one told the poor mother, 'Your child was reported to be
dead, but she did not die: the woman who had charge of her when she was
little could vouch for this.'"

"Such a falsehood, madame, would be cruel. Why give so vain a hope to
the poor mother?"

"But, supposing it were not a falsehood, sir? or, rather, if the
supposition could be realised?"

"By a miracle? If it only required my prayers to be united with your own
to obtain this result, I would give them to you from the bottom of my
heart,--believe me, madame. Unfortunately, the register of decease is
strictly regular."

"Oh, yes, sir, I know well enough that the child is dead; and yet, if
you will agree, that misfortune need not be irreparable."

"Is this some riddle, madame?"

"I will speak more clearly. If my sister were to-morrow to recover her
daughter, she would be certain not only to be restored to health, but to
be wedded to the father of her child, who is now as free as herself. My
niece died at six years old. Separated from her parents from a very
tender age, they have not the slightest recollection of her. Suppose a
young girl of seventeen was produced (my niece would be about that
age),--a young girl (such as there are many) forsaken by her
parents,--and it was said to my sister, 'Here's your daughter, for you
have been imposed upon. Important interests have required that she
should have been said to be dead. The female who brought her up and a
respectable notary will confirm these facts, and prove to you that it is
really she--'"

Jacques Ferrand, after having allowed the countess to speak on without
interruption, rose abruptly, and exclaimed, with an indignant air:

"Madame, this is infamous!"

"Sir!"

"To dare to propose such a thing to me--to me! A supposititious child,
the destruction of a registry of decease; a criminal act, indeed! It is
the first time in my life that I was ever subjected to so outrageous a
proposal,--a proposal I have not merited, and you know it!"

"But, sir, what wrong does this do to any one? My sister and the
individual she desires to marry are widow and widower, and childless,
both bitterly lamenting the child they have lost. To deceive them is to
restore them to happiness, to life, is to ensure a happy destiny to some
poor, forsaken girl; and it becomes, therefore, a noble, a generous
action, and not a crime!"

"Really, madame, I marvel to see how