Edward passed out, leaving them alone. A name escaped her.
"Gaspard."
Slowly, leaning upon the arm of his chair, the old man arose and listened.
"It was a voice from the past," he said, clearly. "Who calls Gaspard Levigne?"
"Oh, God in heaven!" she moaned, dropping to her knees. "Is it true? What do you know of Gaspard Levigne?"
"Nothing that is good; but I am he, Marie!" The woman rushed to his side; she touched his face and smoothed the disordered hair. She held his hand after he had sunk into his chair.
"Tell me, in God's name," she said. "Tell me where are the proofs of our marriage? Oh, Gaspard, for my sake, for the sake of your posterity! You are dying; do not deny me!"
"Ah," he said, in a whisper. "I did not know—there—was—another—I did not know. The woman—she wrote that it died!" He rose again to his feet, animated by a thought that gave him new strength. Turning his face toward her in horror, he said:
"It is for you that you search, then—not for me!"
"Speak, Gaspard, my husband, for my sake, for the sake of your Marie, who loved and loves you, speak!" His lips moved. She placed her ear to them: