“Sure! Eight years have passed! But I recognize him! Ah! I recognize him. I knew him at once! What! Didn’t it force itself on you?”

“No.”

“But I told you: ‘Pay attention!’ Why, it is his figure, it is his face, only older⁠—there are people who do not grow old, I don’t know how they manage it⁠—it is the very sound of his voice. He is better dressed, that is all! Ah! you mysterious old devil, I’ve got you, that I have!”

He paused, and said to his daughters:⁠—

“Get out of here, you!⁠—It’s queer that it didn’t strike you!”

They arose to obey.

The mother stammered:⁠—

“With her injured hand.”