After the lapse of a few days Guillaume found himself unable to doubt the truth any longer.

And his heart bled, he was utterly upset by it.

He had not found them in fault in any way, but he was convinced that these two children, as he so paternally called them, really adored one another.
One lovely morning when he happened to be alone with Mere-Grand, face to face with sunlit Paris, he fell into a yet more dolorous reverie than usual.

He seemed to be gazing fixedly at the old lady, as, seated in her usual place, she continued sewing with an air of queenly serenity.
Perhaps, however, he did not see her.

For her part she occasionally raised her eyes and glanced at him, as if expecting a confession which did not come.