Gaston sighed. “Poor Roland! And he is just outside? Cannot he come in for a moment? Surely, Valentine, I am absolved now from my promise to de Carné. I should like to tell him.”
“My heart, he knows, these seven days. I told him at Vannes. I had made no promise.”
“God bless you!” said her husband, raising her hand to his lips.
“Gaston, ask to see him,” she suggested. “The pass was for one or more members of the family. Tell the gaoler that he is your son.”
“You would allow that?”
“I should wish it. It is the only way to see him.”
“My saint!” He kissed her hand again. “Very well. Old Bernard is an excellent soul; he will not be particular to a minute or two. But do not go, my darling! I want yours to be the last presence in this room to-day.”
But Valentine shook her head with a little smile. “These are his moments. I will come back afterwards.”
One long embrace and they separated as the door swung open. Outside could be heard the click of steel as the sentries crossed their bayonets over the aperture. But, before Valentine going out, they uncrossed for a second.