“Why, it feels really better,” sighed he.
He was so happy in feeling himself thus tenderly supported by Reine, that he altogether forgot his pain.
“Let us walk slowly,” continued she, “and do not be afraid to lean on me. All you have to think of is reaching the carriage.”
“How good you are,” stammered he, “and how ashamed I am!”
“Ashamed of what?” returned Reine, hastily. “I have done nothing extraordinary; anyone else would have acted in the same manner.”
“I entreat you,” replied he, earnestly, “not to spoil my happiness. I know very well that the first person who happened to pass would have rendered me some charitable assistance; but the thought that it is you—you alone—who have helped me, fills me with delight, at: the same time that it increases my remorse. I so little deserve that you should interest yourself in my behalf!”
He waited, hoping perhaps that she would ask for an explanation, but, seeing that she did not appear to understand, he added:
“I have offended you. I have misunderstood you, and I have been cruelly punished for my mistake. But what avails my tardy regret in healing the injuries I have inflicted! Ah! if one could only go backward, and efface, with a single stroke, the hours in which one has been blind and headstrong!”
“Let us not speak of that!” replied she, shortly, but in a singularly softened tone.
In spite of herself, she was touched by this expression of repentance, so naively acknowledged in broken, disconnected sentences, vibrating with the ring of true sincerity. In proportion as he abased himself, her anger diminished, and she recognized that she loved him just the same, notwithstanding his defects, his weakness, and his want of tact and polish. She was also profoundly touched by his revealing to her, for the first time, a portion of his hidden feelings.