CHAPTER X. THE RED CORD
Coralie, feeling her legs give way beneath her, had flung herself on the prie-dieu and there knelt praying fervently and wildly. She could not tell on whose behalf, for the repose of what unknown soul her prayers were offered; but her whole being was afire with fever and exaltation and the very action of praying seemed able to assuage her.
"What was your mother's name, Coralie?" Patrice whispered.
"Louise," she replied.
"And my father's name was Armand. It cannot be either of them, therefore; and yet . . ."
Patrice also was displaying the greatest agitation. Stooping down, he examined the nineteen wreaths, renewed his inspection of the tombstone and said:
"All the same, Coralie, the coincidence is really too extraordinary. My father died in 1895."
"And my mot
