might darken your forehead. Dear Savinien, I have always liked you better than anyone else upon earth. And I might, since my godfather, although he was envious, used to say: ‘Love him, child! you will surely belong to each other some day.’ When I went to Paris I loved you hopelessly, and that feeling contented me. I do not know if I can return to it, but I shall try. After all, what are we at this moment? Brother and sister. Let us remain so. Marry this fortunate girl, who will have the joy of giving your name the lustre it should have, and which, according to your mother, I should diminish. You will never hear of me again. The world will commend you, and I shall never blame you and shall always love you. So good-bye.”
“Wait!” cried the young man.
He motioned to La Bougival to sit down and he scrawled these few words:
“MY DEAR URSULE,
“Your letter breaks my heart, because you have needlessly given yourself much pain, and because, for the first time, our hearts have ceased their understanding. If you are not my wife it is because I cannot yet marry without my mother’s consent. After all, is not eight thousand francs a year in a pretty cottage on the banks of the Loing a fortune? We calculated that with La Bougival we should save five thousand francs a year! One night, in your uncle’s garden, you allowed me to look upon you as my fiancée, and you by yourself cannot break our mutual bonds. Need I tell you that yesterday I plainly told Monsieur du Rouvre that even if I were free I would not accept my fortune from a young woman whom I did not know. My mother refuses to see you again, I lose the happiness of our evenings, but do not curtail the short time I speak to you at your window. Till to-night. Nothing can separate us.”
