“Your picture?” asked Adolphe. “Are you sure?”
“Who could be more sure of it than I?” said Théophraste again, without being excited.
“Very well,” said M. Lecamus, with emotions that it would be hard to describe. “That portrait, which is your portrait, is the portrait of Cartouche.” When M. Lecamus turned to see the effect his words would produce on his friend, he saw Théophraste stretched on the floor in a dead swoon.
For a long time he worked to bring him to. He blew out the candle and opened the windows, allowing the good air to come in. Théophraste came to himself, and his first words were, “Adolphe, above all things do not speak of this to my wife.”
CHAPTER X
Cartouche’s Past
THE following day Théophraste and Marceline returned to the quiet life of the Villa Flots-d’Azure. Théophraste had not mentioned a word of the discovery, and his wife refrained from questioning him. Marceline knew nothing yet of the terrible discovery. Théophraste’s face was full of consternation, and it was evident to Marceline that he had terrible things on his mind.
Adolphe was to join them in a few days; two days passed very quietly in the villa. Marceline attended to her household duties, and Théophraste silently prepared his fishing tackle, as he had promised Adolphe a few days’ fishing in the Marne. On the third day, Théophraste, who had passed a good night, showed a less agitated countenance, and began to smile and was cheered at the prospect of Adolphe’s coming. M. Lecamus arrived before noon, and they both received him with delight.