THE AMERICAN
the Vicomte and Mademoiselle heard something; they knew their father's death was somehow against nature. Of course they could n't accuse their mother, and, as I tell you, I was as dumb as that stone. Mr. Valentin used to look at me sometimes, and his eyes seemed to shine as if he were thinking of some question he could ask me. I was dreadfully afraid he would speak, and always looked away and went about my business. If I were to tell him I was sure he would hate me afterwards, which was what I could never have borne. Once I went up to him and took a great liberty; I kissed him as I had kissed him when he was a child. 'You ought n't to look so sad, sir,' I said; 'believe your poor decent old Bread. Such a gallant, handsome young man can have nothing to be sad about.' And I think he understood me; he understood I was begging off and he made up his mind in his own way. He went about with his unasked question in his mind, as I did with my untold tale; we were both afraid of bringing disgrace on a great house. And it was the same with my dear young lady. She did n't know what had happened; she wouldn't hear of knowing. The Marquise and Mr. Urbain asked me no questions, because they had no reason. I was as still as a stopped clock. When I was younger her ladyship thought me false, and now she thought me bête, as they say. How should I have any ideas?"
Newman turned it all gravely over. "But you say that doctor made a talk. Did no one take it up?"
"I don't know how far they went. They're always talking scandal in these foreign countries—you may
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