Julie had said:  “A blind man could not be mistaken in him.”  There must, therefore, be something striking, an undeniable likeness!  But what?  The forehead?  Yes, perhaps, Limousin’s forehead, however, was narrower.  The mouth then?  But Limousin wore a beard, and how could any one verify the likeness between the fat chin of the child, and the hairy chin of that man?

Parent thought:  “I cannot see anything now, I am too much upset; I could not recognize anything at present ...  I must wait; I must look at him well to-morrow morning, when I am getting up.”  And immediately afterwards he said to himself:  “But if he is like me, I shall be saved! saved!” And he crossed the drawing-room in two strides, to examine the child’s face by the side of his own in the looking-glass.  He had George on his arm, so that their faces might be close together, and he spoke out loud almost without knowing it.  “Yes ... we have the same nose ... the same nose ... perhaps, but that is not sure ... and the same look ...  But no, he has blue eyes ...  Then good heavens!  I shall go mad ...  I cannot see anything more ...  I am going mad!...”

He went away from the glass to the other end of the drawing-room, and putting the child into an easy chair, he fell into another and began to cry; and he sobbed so violently that George, who was frightened at hearing him, immediately began to scream.

The hall bell rang, and Parent gave a bound as if a bullet had gone through him.  “There she is,” he said ...  “What shall I do? ...”  And he ran and locked himself up in his room, so at any rate to have time to bathe his eyes.  But in a few moments another ring at the bell made him jump again, and he remembered that Julie had left, without the housemaid knowing it, and so nobody would go to open the door.  What was he to do?  He went himself, and suddenly he felt brave, resolute, ready for dissimulation and the struggle.  The terrible blow had matured him in a few moments, and then he wished to know the truth, he wished it with the rage of a timid man, and with the tenacity of an easy-going man, who has been exasperated.

But nevertheless he trembled!  Was it fear?  Yes . . .  Perhaps he was still frightened of her?  Does one know how much excited cowardice there often is in boldness?  He went to the door with furtive steps, and stopped to listen; his heart beat furiously, and he heard nothing but the noise of that dull throbbing in his chest, and George’s shrill voice, who was still crying in the drawing room.  Suddenly, however, the noise of the bell over his head startled him like an explosion; then he seized the lock, turned the key and opening the door, saw his wife and Limousin standing before him on the stairs.