She did not hesitate, but said gravely, with an emotion which softened the frankness of her answer:
“It is true, I do not love you; I have only a very sincere affection for you.”
He rose, and stopped by a gesture the kind words which she would have added.
“It is ended; let us never speak of it again. I wished you to be happy. Do not grieve for me. At this moment I feel as if the house had just fallen about me in ruins. But I must only extricate myself as best I can.”
A wave of color passed over his pale face, he gasped for air, he crossed over to the window, then he walked back with a heavy step, seeking to recover his self-possession. He drew a long breath. In the painful silence which had fallen they heard Pascal coming upstairs noisily, to announce his return.
“I entreat you,” murmured Clotilde hurriedly, “to say nothing to master. He does not know my decision, and I wish to break it to him myself, for he was bent upon this marriage.”
Pascal stood still in the doorway. He was trembling and breathless, as if he had come upstairs too quickly. He still found strength to smile at them, saying:
“Well, children, have you come to an understanding?”
“Yes, undoubtedly,” responded Ramond, as agitated as himself.
“Then it is all settled?”