"My friend," he said, "I deceived you, just now; I have something on my
mind--something very serious. I am even very unhappy!"

"What is the matter?" said Camors, whose heart sank.

"I shall tell you that probably to-morrow. Come, in any case, to see me
to-morrow morning. Won't you?"

"Yes, certainly."

"Thanks! Now I shall go--for I am really not well."

He clasped his hand more affectionately than usual.

"Adieu, my dear child," he added, and turned around brusquely to hide the
tears which suddenly filled his eyes. M. de Camors experienced for some
moments a lively disquietude, but the friendly and tender adieus of the
General reassured him that it did not relate to himself. Still he
continued astonished and even affected by the emotion of the old man.

Was it not strange? If there was one man in the world whom he loved, or
to whom he would have devoted himself, it was this one whom he had
mortally wronged.

He had, however, good reason to be uneasy; and was wrong in reassuring
himself; for the General in the course of that evening had been informed
of the treachery of his wife--at least he had been prepared for it. Only
he was still ignorant of the name of her accomplice.

Those who informed him were afraid of encountering the blind and