Bertrande listened without understanding; she tried to interrupt, but
Pierre went on--

"It was easy to accept this stranger without having to blush for it, easy
to give him the name and the rights of a husband! She could even appear
faithful while really guilty; she could seem constant, though really
fickle; and she could, under a veil of mystery, at once reconcile her
honour, her duty--perhaps even her love."

"What on earth do you mean?" cried Bertrande, wringing her hands in
terror.

"That you are countenancing an impostor who is not your husband."

Feeling as if the ground were passing from beneath her, Bertrande
staggered, and caught at the nearest piece of furniture to save herself
from falling; then, collecting all her strength to meet this
extraordinary attack, she faced the old man.

"What! my husband, your nephew, an impostor!"

"Don't you know it?"
"I!!"

This cry, which came from her heart, convinced Pierre that she did not
know, and that she had sustained a terrible shock. He continued more
quietly--

"What, Bertrande, is it possible you were really deceived?"