"I see," he said again; and added now, "Of course, any but a fool
would have guessed it long ago."
It was M. de Kercadiou who cried out, M. de Kercadiou who recoiled
as from a blow.
"My God, Andre, of what are you made? You can take such an
announcement in this fashion?"
"And how would you have me take it? Should it surprise me to
discover that I had a mother? After all, a mother is an
indispensable necessity to getting one's self born."
He sat down abruptly, to conceal the too-revealing fact that his
limbs were shaking. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to
mop his brow, which had grown damp. And then, quite suddenly, he
found himself weeping.
At the sight of those tears streaming silently down that face that
had turned so pale, M. de Kercadiou came quickly across to him. He
sat down beside him and threw an arm affectionately over his shoulder.
"Andre, my poor lad," he murmured. "I... I was fool enough to think
you had no heart. You deceived me with your infernal pretence, and
now I see.
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