“I thought he knew nothing about it. Did you write and tell him?” “Yes; I told him everything.” “Does Edouard know this?” “He knows nothing about it.” Bernard remained silent a little while with downcast head; then turning towards her once more: “And ... what do you mean to do now?” “Do you really ask?... Return to him. It is with him that my place is--with him that I ought to live. You know it.” “Yes,” said Bernard. There was a very long silence. Bernard broke it: “Do you believe one can love someone else’s child as much as one’s own, really?” “I don’t know if I believe it, but I hope it.” “For my part, I believe one can. And, on the contrary, I don’t believe in what people call so foolishly ‘the blood speaking.’ I believe this idea that the blood speaks is a mere myth. I have read somewhere that among certain tribes of South Sea Islanders, it is the custom to adopt other people’s children, and that these adopted children are often preferred to the others. The book said--I remember it quite well--‘made more of.’ Do you know what I think now?... I think that my supposed father, who stood in my father’s place, never said or did anything that could let it be suspected that I was not his real son; that in writing to him as I did, that I had always felt the difference, I was lying; that, on the contrary, he showed a kind of predilection for me, which I felt perfectly, so that my ingratitude towards him was all the more abominable; and that I behaved very ill to him. Laura, my friend, I should like to ask you.... Do you think I ought to beg his pardon and go back to him?” “No,” said Laura. “Why not? Since you are going back to Douviers?” “You were telling me just now, that what was true for one is not true for another. I feel I am weak; you are strong. Monsieur Profitendieu may love you; but from what you have told me, you are not of the kind to understand each other.... Or, at any rate, wait a little. Don’t go back to him worsted. Do you want to know what I really think?--that it is for me and not for him that you are proposing it--to get what you called ‘my esteem.’ You will only get it, Bernard, if I feel you are not seeking for it. I can only care for you as you are naturally. Leave repentance to me. It is not for you, Bernard.”