"More curious things have been explained," said he.
"You! you talk to me like this?" cried she passionately. "You would defend him! You! who knew he was once untrue? You"—faintly—"who once loved me?"
"I shall be your friend always," said he, putting a great constraint upon himself. "It is because I am your friend that I speak thus; why not look at it in another light? You say your husband left you hurriedly; you say that Mme. de Vigny must have known of his absence from you, and also of your boy's. It might be that she, out of revenge, stole the boy, and that your husband is now pursuing her with a view of restoring him to you."
He said this more to gain time than anything else, little thinking that he had guessed the truth, and had laid before her the exact facts of the case.
"A fairy tale," said she mournfully. "No! He lied to me the last time I saw him. When I asked him to bring me my child, he said he was tired—asleep. I, too, was tired, worn-out from sickness and a broken heart, and too weak to do aught but believe him. The child was not here at all!" She stepped back from Jacynth, and covered her face with her hands. "Oh, my Ronny! My beloved! Oh, my little child!" She took down her hands. Her lips were trem-
