"You are right—quite right! you triumph even over my prejudices, since you nobly and voluntarily undertake a sacrifice—which may cost you much, but which must cost us more!"
"I must not hope to see you again?" inquired Arnold, sorrowfully.
"Impossible! to receive into my house the man who had saved my life, and even contract with him a degree of intimacy, warranted by the supposed equality of our conditions, was natural enough; relying, too, on the noble integrity of his heart and honourable principles, I might even blamelessly have sanctioned the brotherly affection he evinced for my child; but all that is at an end. A poor artisan like myself is not a befitting companion for a prince; neither can my daughter take his hand with an innocent freedom as she did at our last meeting; she can no longer dare to claim a sister's right to welcome one whom Providence has placed in a sphere so different from ours. No, no: I may pardon the artifice you employed to obtain our friendship—but I should be applauding and commending you for it were I henceforward to permit a continuance of your visits."
"I beseech you to believe——"
"I am fully aware how painful will be your separation from us; not, however, more so than it will be to us."
"Oh no!" murmured Bertha, unable to restrain her tears.
"But," resumed Pierre Raimond, "you can seek consolation in the pleasures which your rank and fortune can afford."
"The pleasures! alas, do you believe what you say!"
"Well, then, we will change the word, and say the duties it has pleased Providence to impose on you; you have to endeavour to erase from the mind of your wife all the pain you have made her suffer, and that to a generous mind is an occupation at once grand and noble. But what means have we of filling up the void left in our hearts by this sudden breaking off of an intimacy we delighted in? So long as this poor girl is permitted to remain with me I shall regret you less poignantly; but when I am left to myself——. My child had even become more indifferent to the many causes of unhappiness her home supplied, from the soothing pleasure and calm enjoyment she experienced in her visits here. And now what is left her? Nothing but vain regrets for a past happiness it would, perhaps, have been far better she had never known."
"Dearest father," replied Bertha, "do not afflict yourself for me; I will try and submit as I ought to this painful separation from our valued friend; besides, shall I not still have you to love and cherish?"