“Ah! pardieu! mute as a carp.”
“Well, I think——”
Andrea stopped and looked around.
“You think? Do not fear; pardieu! we are alone.”
“I think I have discovered my father.”
“Your true father?”
“Yes.”
“Not old Cavalcanti?”
“No, for he has gone again; the true one, as you say.”
“And that father is——”