When I had spoken these words, I fell back in my chair and a flood of tears streamed from my eyes.
"Ah! Desgenais," I cried, sobbing, "this is not what you told me. Did you not know it? And if you did, why did you not tell me of it?"
But Desgenais sat still with folded hands; he was as pale as a shroud and a long tear trickled down his cheek.
A moment of silence ensued. The clock struck; I suddenly remembered that it was this hour and this day, one year ago, that my mistress deceived me.
"Do you hear that clock?" I cried, "do you hear it? I do not know what it means at this moment, but it is a terrible hour and one that will count in my life."
I was beside myself and scarcely knew what I was saying. But that instant a servant rushed into the room; he took my hand and led me aside, whispering in my ear:
"Sir, I have come to inform you that your father is dying; he has just been seized with an attack of apoplexy and the physicians despair of his life."
PART III
CHAPTER I
MY father lived in the country, some miles from Paris. When I arrived, I found a physician at the door who said to me: