“And you!” exclaimed the magistrate, “you, who call yourself an honest man, permitted such villainy, when one word would have been sufficient to prevent it?”

“Sir, I beg of you,” entreated Lerouge, “permit me to finish.”

“Well, continue!”

“I could say nothing at first, I was so choked with rage.  I must have looked terrible.  But she, who was generally afraid of me when I was in a passion, burst out laughing, and said, ’What a fool you are!  Listen, before turning sour like a bowl of milk.  The count is the only one who wants this change made; and he is the one that’s to pay for it.  His mistress, this little one’s mother, doesn’t want it at all; she merely pretended to consent, so as not to quarrel with her lover, and because she has got a plan of her own.  She took me aside, during my visit in her room, and, after having made me swear secrecy on a crucifix, she told me that she couldn’t bear the idea of separating herself from her babe forever, and of bringing up another’s child.  She added that, if I would agree not to change the children, and not to tell the count, she would give me ten thousand francs down, and guarantee me an annuity equal to the one the count had promised me.  She declared, also, that she could easily find out whether I kept my word, as she had made a mark of recognition on her little one.  She didn’t show me the mark; and I have examined him carefully, but can’t find it.  Do you understand now?  I merely take care of this little fellow here.  I tell the count that I have changed the children; we receive from both sides, and Jacques will be rich.  Now kiss your little wife who has more sense than you, you old dear!’ That, sir, is word for word what Claudine said to me.”

The rough sailor drew from his pocket a large blue-checked handkerchief, and blew his nose so violently that the windows shook.  It was his way of weeping.

M. Daburon was confounded.  Since the beginning of this sad affair, he had encountered surprise after surprise.  Scarcely had he got his ideas in order on one point, when all his attention was directed to another.

He felt himself utterly routed.  What was he about to learn now?  He longed to interrogate quickly, but he saw that Lerouge told his story with difficulty, laboriously disentangling his recollections; he was guided by a single thread which the least interruption might seriously entangle.

“What Claudine proposed to me,” continued the sailor, “was villainous; and I am an honest man.  But she kneaded me to her will as easily as a baker kneads dough.  She turned my heart topsy-turvy:  she made me see white as snow that which was really as black as ink.  How I loved her!  She proved to me that we were wronging no one, that we were making little Jacques’s fortune, and I was silenced.  At evening we arrived at some village; and the coachman, stopping the carriage before an inn, told us we were to sleep there.  We entered, and who do you think we saw?  That