“Perhaps, monsieur.” Petit looked doubtful.

“Even if—I say ‘if’ for the time being—it should be that my son is the cause of your daughter’s condition, I think we must put out of our minds the idea that my son would wish to marry your daughter. I say this simply because we must not deceive ourselves. I should be surprised if Marc wishes such a thing, and I should not be in favor of it myself.”

Petit said nothing. What could he say? He already knew it was true.

“If that were the case,” Jules continued, “what would you do?”

“She will leave my house. I will never see her again.”

“You would not forgive her?”

“I cannot, monsieur. I have my family to think of. But your family has a responsibility, monsieur.”

He was probably losing a customer by saying it, but then he was sure he’d lost Blanchard as a customer anyway.

Jules wondered if the girl would consider an abortion. Such things could be arranged. This was not the moment to raise the matter, however.

“I make no comment until I have spoken to my son. But you may be sure that you will hear from me afterward.”

The interview was at an end. As soon as Petit had left, Jules sent a servant to Marc’s lodgings with a message that he should come to see him at once.

“Not later this morning,” he reiterated. “At once.”

Marc arrived at twenty minutes before noon. He was smiling broadly. He had his American friend already with him, and cheerfully introduced the fellow, who seemed harmless enough, to his parents before his father asked him to step into his library for a private word.

Jules closed the door.

“Corinne Petit is pregnant.”

“She is?” The surprise on Marc’s face was genuine.

“Her father was here this morning. He wants to know what you mean to do about it. Is there a chance you are not the father?”

Marc considered.

“I imagine I am.” He shrugged. “She was innocent.”

“A virgin?”

“Yes. And … I doubt she would even have had the opportunity …”

“He thinks you should marry her.”

“Ah, non.”

“You know what will happen to her, don’t you? Her father is going to throw her out into the street. She is dead to him. Ruined.”

“Mon Dieu!”

“What do you expect? Have you no sense of responsibility?” His father’s voice was rising. “You seduce the young daughter of a man who does work for our family, who trusts us and holds us in respect. You ruin her and think there will be no consequences? How do you think I felt, watching the poor fellow’s rage and agony? How do you imagine I should feel if some scoundrel, yes, some scoundrel like you had ruined your sister? Villain!” he shouted. “Cretin!” He was almost panting with rage.

Marc was completely silent. Then, after a pause, he answered with a single word.

“Joséphine.”

“What do you mean, Joséphine?”