“So help you God!”
“So help me God!”
“Well then, tell him his father and mother are both dead and his brother also. A fever broke out and they all died in one and the same month.”
Duclos felt the blood rushing to his heart. For some minutes he sat in silence, not knowing what to say. Presently he uttered the words:
“Are you sure it is so?”
“Quite sure.”
“Who told you?”
She put her hands on his shoulders and looked him straight in the eyes.
“Swear you will not let it out!”
He swore it: “So help me God!”
“I am his sister.”
“Françoise!” he shrieked.
She looked intently at him, and softly, softly moved her lips, hardly letting the words escape:
“So you are Celestin!”
They did not stir, but remained as though benumbed, gazing into each other’s eyes.
Around them the others shouted with drunken voices. The ringing of glasses, the beating of hands and heels, and the piercing screams of women, intermingled with the singing and the shouting.