"Look here," repeated the boy, "why doesn't Honorine come to set me free? Why don't you bring her here? You managed to find me all right. And grandfather must be worried about me . . . . But what an adventure! . . . So you're still of the same mind, eh, old chap? All's well, isn't it? All's as well as well can be!"
Véronique could not understand. Her son—for there was no doubt that it was François—her son was speaking as if he knew nothing of what had happened. Had he forgotten? Had his memory lost every trace of the deeds done during his fit of madness?
"Yes, a fit of madness," thought Véronique, obstinately. "He was mad. Honorine was quite right: he was undoubtedly mad. And his reason has returned. Oh, François, François! . . ."
She listened, with all her tense being and all her tremb
