He shuddered, his heart crushed by this last torture. Ah! the kisses of other days—those kisses which had ever lingered on his lips! Never since had he kissed her, and to-day she was like a sister flinging her arms around his neck. She kissed him with a loud smack on both his cheeks, and offering her own, insisted on his doing likewise to her. So twice, in his turn, he embraced her.
“I, too, Marie,” said he, “am pleased, very pleased, I assure you.” And then, overcome by emotion, his courage exhausted, whilst at the same time filled with delight and bitterness, he burst into sobs, weeping with his face buried in his hands, like a child seeking to hide its tears.
“Come, come, we must not give way,” said Sister Hyacinthe, gaily. “Monsieur l’Abbé would feel too proud if he fancied that we had merely come on his account. M. de Guersaint is about, isn’t he?”
Marie raised a cry of deep affection. “Ah! my dear father! After all, it’s he who’ll be most pleased!”
Thereupon Pierre had to relate that M. de Guersaint had not returned from his excursion to Gavarnie. His increasing anxiety showed itself while he spoke, although he sought to explain his friend’s absence, surmising all sorts of obstacles and unforeseen complications. Marie, however, did not seem afraid, but again laughed, saying that her father never could be punctual. Still she was extremely eager for him to see her walking, to find her on her legs again, resuscitated, in the fresh blossoming of her youth.
All at once Sister Hyacinthe, who had gone to lean over the balcony, returned to the room, saying “Here he comes! He’s down below, just alighting from his carriage.”
“Ah!” cried Marie, with the eager playfulness of a school-girl, “let’s give him a surprise. Yes, we must hide, and when he’s here we’ll show ourselves all of a sudden.”
With these words, she hastily dragged Sister Hyacinthe into the adjoining room.
Almost immediately afterwards, M. de Guersaint entered like a whirlwind from the passage, the door communicating with which had been quickly opened by Pierre, and, shaking the young priest’s hand, the belated excursionist exclaimed: “Here I am at last! Ah! my friend, you can’t have known what to think since four o’clock yesterday, when you expected me back, eh? But you have no idea of the adventures we have had. To begin with, one of the wheels of our landau came off just as we reached Gavarnie; then, yesterday evening—though we managed to start off again—a frightful storm detained us all night long at Saint-Sauveur. I wasn’t able to sleep a wink.” Then, breaking off, he inquired, “And you, are you all right?”
“I wasn’t able to sleep either,” said the priest; “they made such a noise in the hotel.”