In Search of a Son by William Shepard Walsh
CHAPTER XXIII.
A PROOF?
Monsieur Dalize took his friend Roger by the arm, and they walkedtogether down one of the solitary pathways of the park. When they weresome distance off from Madame Dalize and the children, Monsieur Dalizestopped, looked his friend squarely in the eyes, and said, in afaltering tone,--
"Then you still think it? You have retained that foolish idea? You thinkthat Paul----?"
"Yes," interrupted Monsieur Roger, in a firm voice, and withoutavoiding the eyes of his friend, "I think it, and more than that."Then, lowering his head, in a softened tone, but without hesitation, hesaid, "I think that Paul is my son."
Monsieur Dalize looked at his friend with a feeling of real pity.
"Your son?" he said. "You think that Paul is your son? And on what doyou found this improbable, this impossible belief? Upon a likeness whichyour sorrowful spirit persists in tracing. Truly, my dear Roger, yougrieve me. I thought you had a firmer as well as a clearer head. To whomcould you confide such absurd ideas?"
"To you, in the first place, as I have already done," said MonsieurRoger, gravely. "The resemblance which you doubt, and which, in fact,seems impossible to prove, is not a resemblance which I see between Pauland George, but between Paul and her who was his mother; of that I amsure."
"You are sure?"
"Yes; and in speaking thus I am in possession of all my senses, as yousee. Now, would you like to know what further clue I have? Perhaps Ihave one. I will tell it to you."
Here Monsieur Roger interrupted himself.
"No," said he: "you will laugh at me."
"Speak," said Monsieur Dalize. "I am sorry for you, and I shall notlaugh at your delusion. Speak. I will listen."
"Well," said Monsieur Roger, "this very morning, when you left theroom, the noise that you made troubled the sleep of Paul; a dream passedthrough his brain, and I followed all its phases. I saw that Paul wasgoing over the terrible scene of the night before; I knew that by theterror of his face and by the murmur of his lips. He evidently thoughthimself exposed to danger; then it seemed as if he heard something, asif he knew that help was at hand. He made a movement, as if to extendhis hands, and from his mouth came this word, 'Papa.'"
Monsieur Roger looked at his friend, who remained silent.
"You have not understood?" he said.
Monsieur Dalize shook his head.
"Ah, but I understood," continued Monsieur Roger; "I am certain that Iunderstood. In his dream Paul--no, no, not Paul, but George, my littleGeorge--had heard himself called as ten years ago he had been called atthe time of the shipwreck, during the fire on shipboard, and he wasanswering to that call; and it was to no stranger that he was answering;it was not to Monsieur Roger; no, it was to his father: it was to me."
Monsieur Roger stopped, seeking some other proof which he might furnishto Monsieur Dalize.
The latter was plunged in thought; his friend's faith commenced to shakehis doubt. He certainly did not share Roger's idea, but he was saying tohimself that perhaps this idea was not so impossible as it would seem atfirst sight.
Roger continued, hesitating from the moment he had to pronounce the nameof Paul Solange:
"You remember exactly the story that Paul told. Were you not struck withit? Did not Paul acknowledge that in his torpor, in his semi-asphyxia,he had called for help, called to his assistance some unknown forcewhich would shake and awake his dazed and half-paralyzed will? And didnot this help come, this sudden force, when he felt himself called? Now,how many times I had cried out 'Paul' without waking the child! Paul wasnot his name; he did not hear it. I had to shout to him, making use ofhis own name, his real name. I cried out, 'George!' and George heard andunderstood me. George was saved."
Monsieur Dalize listened attentively: he was following up a train ofreasoning. At the end of some moments he answered Monsieur Roger, whowas awaiting with impatience the result of his thoughts.
"Alas, my poor friend! in spite of all my reason tells me, I should liketo leave to you your hope, but it is impossible. I have seen Paul'sfather; I know him; I have spoken to him, I have touched him; thatfather is not a shadow,--he exists in flesh and blood. You have heardPaul himself speak of him. In a few months he will come to Paris; youwill see him; and then you will be convinced."
"But have you seen the birth-register of Paul Solange?" asked MonsieurRoger.
"Have I seen it? I may have done so, but I don't remember just now."
"But that register must have been made; it must be in France, in thehands of some one."
"Certainly."
"Where can it be?"
"At the Lyceum, in the dockets of the registrar."
"Well, my friend, my dear friend, I must see it. You understand?"
"Yes, I understand. You wish to have under your own eyes the proof ofyour mistake. You shall have it. As the guardian of Paul Solange, I willwrite the registrar to send me a copy of that birth-register. Are yousatisfied?"
"Yes."
"And now, I ask you to be calm, to keep cool."
"Oh, don't be uneasy about me," answered Monsieur Roger.
Then the two friends rejoined the group which they had left.
Miette rose when she saw Monsieur Roger.
"Ah!" she cried, "Monsieur Roger is going to tell us that."
"That? What?" asked Monsieur Dalize.
"Why, what asphyxia is," answered Miette.
"Ah, my friend," said Monsieur Dalize, turning to Roger, "I will leavethe word to you."
"Very well," answered Monsieur Roger. "Asphyxia is,--it is----"
And as Monsieur Roger was seeking for some easy words in which toexplain himself, Miette cried out, with a laugh,--
"Perhaps you don't know yourself,--you who know everything?"
"Yes, I know it," answered Monsieur Roger, with a smile; "but, in orderto tell you, I must first explain to you what is the formation of theblood, and tell you something of oxygen and carbonic acid, and----"
"Well, tell us," cried Miette, "if you think it will interest us.--Itwill, won't it, Paul?"
Paul bent his head.
Monsieur Roger saw this gesture, and replied,--
"Well, then, I am going to tell you."