M. de La Tour d'Azyr read the letter slowly through. Then very
quietly he replaced it. His next concern, being the product of
an artificial age sternly schooled in the suppression of emotion,
was to compose himself. Then he stepped back to Mme. de Plougastel's
side and stooped to raise her.
"Therese," he said.
Obeying, by instinct, the implied command, she made an effort to
rise and to control herself in her turn. The Marquis half conducted,
half carried her to the armchair by the table.
Andre-Louis looked on. Still numbed and bewildered, he made no
attempt to assist. He saw as in a dream the Marquis bending over
Mme. de Plougastel. As in a dream he heard him ask:
"How long have you known this, Therese?"
"I... I have always known it... always. I confided him to Kercadiou.
I saw him once as a child... Oh, but what of that?"
"Why was I never told? Why did you deceive me? Why did you tell
me that this child had died a few days after birth? Why, Therese?
Why?"
"I was afraid. I... I thought it better so - that nobody, nobody,
not even you, should know.
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