"My God!" groaned Naundorff. "How you poison the first happiness I have tasted! Can you not read the state of my soul? Ambition! 'Tis an illusive folly. I long only for those arms to be opened to me in which as a little child I slept. What are a crown and sceptre worth? Such baubles do not allure me. I wish above all things to recover my name and to feel my sister's kisses. Those kisses will banish the spectre back of my forehead. Am I mad? Have I dreamed my past life? _She_, _she_ will tell me the truth." "But father," remonstrated Amélie, "why do you permit such doubts to overpower you? Do you not possess proofs? Have you not cited many corroborating circumstances? Have you not been recognized by your father's faithful servitors? By Madame Rambaud who rocked you in your cradle? Did you not remind her that the blue velvet dress you were to wear to Versailles was tight in the sleeves and that it was in consequence removed? Did she not exclaim on hearing you: 'This is my prince and my king?" "Well, Amélie, in spite of these testimonials, I, myself falter in faith. My past seems too extraordinary to fit within the bounds of the possible. Perhaps I _am_ a visionary, one of the many in the ranks of spurious Dauphins who have emerged from every corner of France. 'Tis true that I possess genuine documentary proof; of that I am certain. But these papers may have been placed in my hands for an end incomprehensible to me. Montmorin, himself, that hero of loyalty, may have been duped. This is the terrible suspicion which seizes me always at the moment when I most require confidence and courage." Amélie sent René a look almost of anguish. Naundorff continued: "_She_ is the only cure for this unbearable incertitude. _She_ is all that remains of my past. Her voice calling me 'Brother' will sweep the cobwebs from my brain and restore my faith forever." "Are we to understand, Monseigneur," asked René, "that you may not enter the Palace? Is Madame to visit you here?" "No; we have agreed to meet in Versailles park, the place where as children we so often played together. My sister is accustomed to visit Versailles occasionally that she may be undisturbed in her religious devotions and perform works of charity among the poor. Ah! my sister is an angel. In the midst of the brilliant court life, she is an angel. They have sought to harden her and weaken her clear judgment, but such effort has been futile. Yes, 'tis Versailles where we shall meet in six days, next Thursday. I am to be just without the garden. We are to meet in the grove of Apollo, from which the public is excluded; she visits the park only on festival days. All these details have been explained.--I know so well that our first act will be to cast ourselves into each other's arms and mingle our tears. We have not yet mourned our mother together!" Louis Pierre contracted his thin lips in a bitter smile and caustically remarked: "So this is to be all, Monseigneur? Only a fraternal embrace?"