Yes, I believe it, but I have
never been certain of it. Sometimes I have believed, sometimes I
have doubted it. On certain days I have said to myself, 'Yes, it
must be so!' and I have longed to throw my arms around his neck.
But at other times I have exclaimed: 'No, it isn't possible!' and
I have almost hated him. Besides, he never said a word on the
subject--never a decisive word, at least. When I saw him for the
first time, six years ago, I judged by the manner in which he
forbade me to call him 'father,' that he would never answer any
question I might ask on the subject."
If there was a man in the world inaccessible to idle curiosity, it
was certainly this magistrate, whose profession condemned him to
listen every day to family grievances, neighborly quarrels,
complaints, accusations, and slander. And yet as he listened to
Mademoiselle Marguerite, he experienced that strange disquietude
which seizes hold of a person when a puzzling problem is
presented. "Allow me to believe that many decisive proofs may
have escaped your notice on account of your inexperience," he
said.
But interrupting him with a gesture, she sadly remarked: "You are
mistaken; I am not inexperienced."
He could not help smiling at what he considered her self-conceit.
"Poor child!" said he; "how old are you? Eighteen?"
She shook her head. "Yes, by my certificate of birth I am only
eighteen; but by the sufferings I have endured I am, perhaps,
older than you are, monsieur, despite your white hair.
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