“Did I not tell you I saw you coming, and knew why you came?”
“Then answer me.”
“Do not turn me from God and from him, Roland. I have written it all; read my letter.”
Roland slipped his hand beneath the pillow, convinced that his sister was delirious.
To his great astonishment he felt a paper, which he drew out. It was a sealed letter; on it were written these words: “For Roland, who will come to-morrow.”
He went over to the night-light in order to read the letter, which was dated the night before at eleven o’clock in the evening.
My brother, we have each a terrible thing to forgive the
other.
Roland looked at his sister; she was still motionless. He continued to read:
I loved Charles de Sainte-Hermine; I did more than
love him, he was my lover.
“Oh!” muttered the young man between his teeth, “he shall die.”