E-Books for you

It is not, perhaps,
a denial to which one would attach too much importance in all the
circumstances. Yet I have never known M de Kercadiou for other than
a man of strictest honour, and I should hesitate to disbelieve him
- particularly when his statement leaps with my own instincts. He
assured me that he did not know who my father was."
"And your mother, was she equally ignorant?" She was sneering, but
he did not remark it. Her back was to the light.
"He would not disclose her name to me. He confessed her to be a
dear friend of his."
She startled him by laughing, and her laugh was not pleasant.
"A very dear friend, you may be sure, you simpleton. What name do
you bear?"
He restrained his own rising indignation to answer her question
calmly: "Moreau. It was given me, so I am told, from the Brittany
village in which I was born. But I have no claim to it. In fact
I have no name, unless it be Scaramouche, to which I have earned a
title. So that you see, my dear," he ended with a smile, "I have
practised no deception whatever.


Pages:
287 288 289 290 291 292 293 294 295 296 297 298 299 300 301 302 303 304 305 306 307 308 309 310 311