They were there, all three of them, affected in different ways, but anxious and even a little timorous, as we are at the approach of the solemn events of our lives, even when we expect nothing from them but pleasure and satisfaction.
“Well?” asked Gilberte, who was certainly the least excited of the three.
Guillaume made up his mind and read, aloud:
“Mademoiselle,
“As I expected, our friend Renaudeau did not persist in his silence very long and, without further procrastination, has told us as much of your father’s story as interests you. We now know that, at the time when he was living in France....”
Guillaume stopped. He hesitated once more and the letter fell from his hands to his knees.
Mme. de la Vaudraye grew impatient:
“What are you thinking of, my boy?”
He replied, in a dreamy voice:
“I am thinking that we are about to violate the secret of two persons who must surely have had their reasons for keeping it so carefully. They may have been the offspring of two rival families, or a pair of lovers who were kept apart by convention, but whose hearts drew them together. Who can tell? In any case, don’t you think that their secret belongs to them and that there is no reason that authorizes us to violate it?”