"Of whom do you speak?" said Lothario. "I do not understand you."
"Of whom but your son, Aurelia's son, the lovely child to whose good fortune there is nothing wanting but that a tender father should acknowledge and receive him."
"You mistake, my friend," said Lothario; "Aurelia never had a son. I know of no child, or I would gladly acknowledge it. But did she ever give you to believe that the boy was hers--was mine?"
"I cannot recollect that I ever heard a word from her expressly on the subject, but we took it so, and I never for a moment doubted it."
"I can give you a clue to this perplexity," interposed Jarno. "An old woman, whom Wilhelm must have noticed, gave Aurelia the child, telling her that it was yours. She accepted it eagerly, hoping to alleviate her sorrows by its presence; and, in truth, it gave her many a comfortable hour."
This discovery awoke anxieties in Wilhelm. He thought of the beautiful child Felix with the liveliest apprehension, and expressed his wish to remove him from the state in which he was.
"We can soon arrange that," said Lothario. "I think you ought yourself to take charge of him; what in us the women leave uncultivated, children cultivate when we retain them near us."
It was agreed to lose no time in putting this plan into execution, and Wilhelm departed forthwith to fetch the child.
Passing through the house, he found Aurelia's old serving-maid, whom he had never seen at close quarters before, employed in sewing. Felix and Mignon were sitting by her on the floor.
"Art thou the person," he demanded earnestly, "from whom Aurelia received this child?"