“The landlord, appearing on the scene, went to look for the birth certificate of this wretched being.  He was born eight months and twenty-six days after my stay at Pont Labbe, for I recollect perfectly that we reached Lorient on the fifteenth of August.  The certificate contained this description:  ‘Father unknown.’  The mother called herself Jeanne Kerradec.

“Then my heart began to beat rapidly.  I could not utter a word, for I felt as if I were choking.  I looked at this animal whose long yellow hair reminded me of a straw heap, and the beggar, embarrassed by my gaze, stopped laughing, turned his head aside, and wanted to get away.

“All day long I wandered beside the little river, giving way to painful reflections.  But what was the use of reflection?  I could be sure of nothing.  For hours and hours I weighed all the pros and cons in favor of or against the probability of my being the father, growing nervous over inexplicable suppositions, only to return incessantly to the same horrible uncertainty, then to the still more atrocious conviction that this man was my son.

“I could eat no dinner, and went to my room.

“I lay awake for a long time, and when I finally fell asleep I was haunted by horrible visions.  I saw this laborer laughing in my face and calling me ‘papa.’  Then he changed into a dog and bit the calves of my legs, and no matter how fast I ran he still followed me, and instead of barking, talked and reviled me.  Then he appeared before my colleagues at the Academy, who had assembled to decide whether I was really his father; and one of them cried out:  ’There can be no doubt about it!  See how he resembles him.’  And, indeed, I could see that this monster looked like me.  And I awoke with this idea fixed in my mind and with an insane desire to see the man again and assure myself whether or not we had similar features.

“I joined him as he was going to mass (it was Sunday) and I gave him five francs as I gazed at him anxiously.  He began to laugh in an idiotic manner, took the money, and then, embarrassed afresh at my gaze, he ran off, after stammering an almost inarticulate word that, no doubt, meant ‘thank you.’

“My day passed in the same distress of mind as on the previous night.  I sent for the landlord, and, with the greatest caution, skill and tact, I told him that I was interested in this poor creature, so abandoned by every one and deprived of everything, and I wished to do something for him.

“But the man replied:  ’Oh, do not think of it, monsieur; he is of no account; you will only cause yourself annoyance.  I employ him to clean out the stable, and that is all he can do.  I give him his board and let him sleep with the horses.  He needs nothing more.  If you have an old pair of trousers, you might give them to him, but they will be in rags in a week.’

“I did not insist, intending to think it over.

“The poor wretch came home that evening frightfully drunk, came near setting fire to the house, killed a horse by hitting it with a pickaxe, and ended up by lying down to sleep in the mud in the midst of the pouring rain, thanks to my donation.