"About Monsieur Roger?"
"Yes."
"Well, I told mamma that for some time back I have heard Monsieur Roger walking all night in his room; only this evening I heard him crying."
"That is all that I wish to know, my child. You can go back again."
When Monsieur Dalize was alone, he walked around the clump of trees to rejoin Roger.
"Well," said he, softly, "you have heard. Everybody has noticed your grief. Won't you tell me now what it is that you are suffering, or what secret is torturing you?"
"Yes, I will confide this secret to you," said Monsieur Roger, "because you will understand me, and you will not laugh at your unhappy friend." And Monsieur Roger told the whole truth to his friend Dalize. He told him what a singular fixed idea had possessed his brain; he told him of the strange resemblance which he thought he had discovered between the features of his dear and regretted wife and the face of Paul Solange.
Monsieur Dalize let his friend pour out his soul to him. He said only, with pitying affection, when Monsieur Roger had finished,—
"My poor friend! it is a dream that is very near insanity."
"Alas! that is what I tell myself; and still——"