at last he turned and looked at me with an expression that made me feel guilty enough at having asked. “but that isn’t all, m’sieur; i haven’t told you the worst part yet. last week his father—fran?ois’s father—came here to see me. he asked me if i knew anything about fran?ois—how he died. what could i say? of course i couldn’t tell him. i saw him fall—that’s all i said. and i was glad, then, that i hadn’t done it.... no, i can’t talk about it any more, m’sieur. don’t ask me to, please!”