"Why, certainly, I know."
"You know?" cried Paul.
"Yes: he called you George because he thought suddenly that his child, his little George, whom he lost in a fire,—in a fire on shipboard——"
Paul Solange listened, opening his eyes very wide.
"Ah, that is true. You don't know anything about it. You were not here when Monsieur Roger told us this terrible thing."
"No, I was not here; but you were here, Miette. Well, speak—tell me all about it."
Then Miette repeated to Paul Monsieur Roger's story; she told him about the departure of Monsieur Roger, his wife, and their little George for America, their voyage on the ship, then the fire at sea. She told about the grief, the almost insane grief, which Monsieur Roger had felt when he saw himself separated from his wife and his son, who had been taken off in a boat, while he remained upon the steamer. Then she told Paul of the despair of Monsieur Roger when he saw that boat disappear and bear down with it to a watery grave those whom he loved.
"At that moment," continued Miette, "Monsieur Roger told us that he cried out 'George! George!' with a voice so loud, so terrified, that certainly his little boy must have heard."
Miette stopped.