My first reaction is to laugh. The second is to weep.

"That's impossible," I say.

"So I would have thought. But there are old servants of the Prevals

who remember Felicite quite well. Pretty thing. Of course, she left the

Baroness's service after a short time. No one seems to recall the circumstances, but they do remember this. She was carrying a baby with

her when she left."

Half smiling, he stares into his glass.

"Now who the father was, we'll never know that. Then again . . ."

He shrugs. "We're not even sure who the mother was. No one remembers seeing Felicite in a family way."

Turning now, I stare out the window. The year's first heat wave has

left a pall in the streets. Two apprentice bakers are hurling buckets of

cold water against their storefront to cool the plaster, and an old man,

his blouse streaked with sweat, is hawking fried potatoes with a crackling, famished cry.

"You can't believe it was the Baroness's child," I say.

"I don't know what to believe."

"Even if-even if one could conceive of such a thing-a woman of

her station bearing a child out of wedlock . . ."

"It's happened before."

". . . one can't imagine her abandoning the child. Leaving him in direst poverty. That's the act of a monster."

"Ah, but you're presuming she had a choice. The Revolution came

along, remember? She had to f lee the country. Her lands were seized,

her jewels were lost. She would've had no way to send money back,

even if she'd wanted to."

"It's absurd," I say, shaking my head, unequivocally. "Anybody

might have been the mother of that child. Anybody might have . . ." And then I'm struck dumb by a memory. The Baroness's final

words, just as she was being handed down into that boat. I' ll watch over him, she said. As if he were my own son.

As if he were . . .

"No," I say, in a low, hissing voice. "No, it's all just a bizarre coin

cidence. Nothing more."

Vidocq just clucks his tongue. Gives his brandy a swirl. "Well, I'll say only this. I'd dearly love another crack at that Baroness of ours."

"And what would you ask her?"

"I'd start with this. How did your old friend Leblanc learn about

Charles in the first place? Did you tell him? And if so, how did you

know about Charles? And, come to think of it, why did you mention