Elaine wondered what made her son sleep so unusually late this morning, but would not allow him to be disturbed. Between four and five she went to his room and knocked lightly. As she received no reply she opened the door, and saw Paul throwing clothes and books into his trunk.
"Are you going away, my son?"
He turned hastily, hesitated an instant, then tenderly embraced her. She supposed he was going to spend a day or so with Odette, and the thought filled her with sorrow and indignation; but she must conceal her feelings, so she said:
"Is it a pleasant day?"
He, too, had his terrible secret. If the room had been lighter she would have read it in his blood-shot eyes, in his drawn features, and his livid pallor. But she saw nothing of it.
"Very pleasant, mother."
A long silence. Both hesitating and embarrassed; neither daring to glance at the other. Elaine saw his reflection in the mirror and started at his paleness. Could he have any suspicions? Did he know of his wife's dishonor? How could she find out? Turning to the window, she said, "Why, here is a carriage at the door. How tiresome; some one has come to call, and I'm not dressed. But, no; it is Grenoble, and there is Claude."
"He?" cried Paul, angrily.
Elaine turned around. She said,
"You know all."