"I will avow anything you please, my dear Dixmer, for your conduct to me has always been that of a worthy man; but I have nevertheless made a resolution, and that resolution is irrevocable."
"But how is that?" said Dixmer, "when according to your own confession you have nothing to reproach us with, and yet, notwithstanding, you leave us?"
"My dear Dixmer, believe me, acting as I now am, and depriving myself of such a friend, I must be actuated by powerful motives."
"Yes; but under any circumstances," said Dixmer, affecting to smile, "these reasons are not those you have written. What you have written to me is merely a subterfuge."
Maurice reflected an instant.
"Listen, Dixmer," said he; "we live in an epoch when a doubt conveyed in a letter can and must annoy you; this I can well understand. It would then be acting like a dishonorable man to allow you to remain in this state of inquietude. Yes, Dixmer, the reasons I gave you were not the true ones."
This avowal, which should have cleared the face of the merchant, only seemed the more to cloud it.
"But at least tell me the true motive," said Dixmer.
"I cannot tell you," said Maurice; "and yet I am certain if you knew it, you would afford me your approval."