"Yes, monsieur; I bought it recently. And I am proud of it. I am a child of accident, monsieur, and I don't want to hide it; I am proud of it. I owe nothing to anyone; I am the son of my own efforts; I owe everything to myself."
The little boy, who remained on the threshold, kept still exclaiming, though at some distance away from them:
"Dada!"
Mordiane, shaking with a shivering fit, seized with panic, fled as one flies away from a great danger.
"He is going to guess who I am, to recognize me," he thought. "He is going to take me in his arms, and to call out to me, 'Dada,' while giving me a kiss perfumed with garlic."
"To-morrow, monsieur."
"To-morrow, at one o'clock."
The landau rolled over the white road.
"Coachman! to the railway-station!"
And he heard two voices, one far away and sweet, the faint, sad voice of the dead, saying: "My darling," and the other sonorous, sing-song, frightful, bawling out, "Dada," just as people bawl out, "Stop him!" when a thief is flying through the street.