"But if the search is already over," slowly responded Madame.
The father looked one instant in her face, then rose with an
exclamation:
"Where is my son? What has happened? Do you think I am a child, to be
trifled with--a horse to be teased? Tell me of my son!"
Madame was stricken with genuine anguish.
"Take your chair," she begged; "wait; listen; take your chair."
"Never!" cried the General; "I am going to find my son--my God! Madame,
you have _locked this door_! What are you, that you should treat me so?
Give me, this instant"--
"Oh! Monsieur, I beseech you to take your chair, and I will tell you
all. You can do nothing now. Listen! suppose you should rush out and
find that your son had played the coward at last! Sit down and"--
"Ah! Madame, this is play!" cried the distracted man.
"But no; it is not play. Sit down; I want to ask you something."
He sank down and she stood over him, anguish and triumph strangely
mingled in her beautiful face.
"General, tell me true; did you not force this quarrel into your son's
hand? I _know_ he would not choose to have it.
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