There may have been a sort of revenge on Gilberte in Mme. de la Vaudraye’s unbending attitude. She rejoiced to see this child, who had always dominated her by her goodness and candour, on her knees before her, while she, the judge, looked down from her moral pedestal and put her to confusion from the heights of her respectability. She did not reply. Gilberte continued: “You remember our walk, a little while ago, when you showed me the former boundaries of your property.... Well, I bought it all up ... in order to give it back to you. I hoped to bring you back here, to this house which belongs to you. Everything is yours, you would have managed and disposed of everything, you would have been the absolute mistress, answerable to no one, you would have resumed your proper place at Domfront, the Logis would have become what it used to be....” A gleam flashed through Mme. de la Vaudraye’s eyes, but she restrained herself. The same inflexible will contracted her face into a hard and stiff mask. Coldly, she said: “I am exceedingly sorry that all these fine plans cannot be realized, but it is not my fault.... Make enquiries.... Who knows ...? Perhaps you will succeed in finding out the indispensable truth.” Gilberte, in her despair, was nearly flinging her arms round her neck and saying: “Stay here, please.... Be to me the mother whom I have lost.... I will love you like a daughter....” But Guillaume prevented her: “Why humiliate yourself, Gilberte?... If my mother will not consent....” “Well?” “Well, are we not free?” “No, Guillaume,” she answered, firmly, “I will not marry you except with your mother’s entire approval.” He turned pale and murmured: “But ... we shall see each other....” “We shall not see each other. We can only see each other by stealth; and that is unworthy of us.” “Suppose I meet you....” “I shall not leave the Logis.” “But....” “We will wait, Guillaume. Am I not your promised bride?” He bowed. His mother went out. He followed her. And Gilberte felt as though she had never been so lonely in her life. X THE DESERTED HOUSE Next day, Gilberte received the following letter from Maître Dufornéril, her solicitor at Dieppe: “MADEMOISELLE, “I have just received your telegram asking me where we stand in the matter of our enquiries. I have already given you the information which I obtained regarding your life and that of your parents at Liverpool, although this, unfortunately, told us nothing new. M. Kellner, which was the name under which your father made his fortune at Liverpool, left none but pleasant memories behind him in the commercial world of that city. On the other hand, no one knew anything of his private life or of his antecedents. It was not even known that he was married; and this fully bears out what you told me of the retired existence which your mother and yourself used to lead.