"I know it, alas! sir, the child is dead: and yet, if you wish it, the evil is not irreparable." "It is an enigma, madame." "I will speak, then, more plainly. If my sister finds to-morrow her child, not only will she be restored to health, but, what is more, she is sure to marry the father of this child, now as free as she is. My niece died at six years. Separated from her parents at this tender age, they have no recollection of her. Suppose that a young girl of seventeen could be found; that my sister should be told, 'Here is your child; you have been deceived; certain interests required that she should be thought dead. The woman who had charge of her, a respectable notary will affirm, will prove to you that it is she--'" Jacques Ferrand, after having allowed the countess to speak without interrupting her, rose suddenly, and cried, in an indigant manner, "Enough, enough, madame. Oh! this is infamous." "Sir!" "To dare to propose to me--to me--to palm off a child--a criminal action! It is the first time in my life that I have received such an outrage, and I have not deserved it--heaven knows." "But, who is wronged by it? My sister and the person she desires to marry are single; both regret bitterly the child they have lost; to deceive them is to restore to them happiness--life; it is to assure some forsaken young girl a most happy lot: thus it is a noble, generous action, and not a crime." "Truly," cried the notary, with increasing indignation, "I see how the most execrable projects can be colored with--" "But reflect." "I repeat to you, madame, that it is infamous. It is a shame to see a woman of your rank contriving such abominations, to which your sister, I hope, is a stranger." "Sir!" "Enough, madame, enough! I am not a gallant, not I. I tell you the naked truth." Sarah cast on the notary one of her dark looks, and said coldly, "You refuse?" "No new insult, madame!" "Take care!" "Threats?" "Threats! and to prove to you that they will not be in vain, learn, in the first place, that I have no sister." "What, madame?" "I am the mother of this child." "You?" "I invented this fable to interest you. You are without pity: I raise the mask. You want war! well, war be it." "War! because I refuse to lend myself to a criminal act? what audacity!" "Listen to me, sir; your reputation as an honest man is great--known far and near." "Because it is merited. You must have lost your reason before you would have dared to make such a proposition?" "Better than any one, I know, sir, how much one ought to suspect these reputations of such strict virtue, which often conceal the gallantries of women and the scoundrelism of men." "You dare to say this, madame?" "Since the commencement of our conversation, I do not know wherefore, I doubted that you deserve the consideration and esteem which you enjoy." "Truly, madame, this doubt does honor to your perspicacity."