"Words, words; but what proof did he give you? Pardon me these questions, Helene. I dread misfortune. I wish that for a time your angel's innocence could give place to the sharpness and infernal sagacity of a fiend; you would then understand me. I should not need to subject you to this interrogatory, which now is so necessary."
"I do not understand your question, Gaston. I do not know how to reply to you."
"Did he show you much affection?"
"Yes."
"But in the darkness, when he wished to speak to you?"
"He took my hand, and his trembled the most."
Gaston clenched his hands with rage.
"He embraced you paternally, did he not?"
"He gave me a single kiss on the forehead, which I received on my knees."
"Helene!" he cried, "my fears were not groundless; you are betrayed—you are the victim of a snare. Helene, this man who conceals himself, who fears the light, who calls you his child, is not your father."