Wilkie
he could not articulate a syllable. His tongue was as stiff, and
as dry, as if it had been paralyzed. He nervously passed and
repassed his fingers between his neck and his collar, but although
this gave full play to his cravat, his words did not leave his
throat any more readily. For he had imagined that Madame
d'Argeles would be like other women he had known, but not at all.
He found her to be an extremely proud and awe-inspiring creature,
who, to use his own vocabulary, SQUELCHED him completely. "I
wished to say to you," he repeated, "I wished to say to you----"
But the words he was seeking would not come; and, so at last,
angry with himself, he exclaimed: "Ah! you know as well as I, why
I have come. Do you dare to pretend that you don't know?"
She looked at him with admirably feigned astonishment, glanced
despairingly at the ceiling, shrugged her shoulders, and replied:
"Most certainly I don't know--unless indeed it be a wager."
"A wager!" M. Wilkie wondered if he were not the victim of some
practical joke, and if there were not a crowd of listeners hidden
somewhere, who, after enjoying his discomfiture, would suddenly
make their appearance, holding their sides. This fear restored
his presence of mind. "Well, then," he replied, huskily, "this is
my reason. I know nothing respecting my parents. This morning, a
man with whom you are well acquainted, assured me that I was--your
son.
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