"But, my dear father——"
"I know what you are going to say—when you were first married, Brévannes offered me a small suite of rooms in his house, and you yourself subsequently reiterated the proposition, which I, however, constantly refused to accept."
"Alas, yes!"
"Because, Bertha, I doubted this Brévannes, and the duration of his at first so violent love, I could not have remained a passive spectator of your unhappiness; my very anxiety might have disturbed your domestic comfort: for these reasons, then, I imposed a severe restraint on my inclinations. No, said I, I will wait, Bertha has never deceived me, and if, after four years of marriage, she still proclaims herself happy, I shall then feel satisfied as to the future, and be equally persuaded of the goodness of Brévannes' nature — that moment has arrived—I find your husband worthy of you, and this very day will I say to him, 'I have doubted you, I have proved myself wrong, and I am here to solicit your pardon. Now that my faith and confidence in you are well established, I accept the offer you once made me, and I will never again quit Bertha or yourself.'"
"What are you saying, father?" exclaimed Bertha.
"I say, my beloved child, that my years upon this earth are too few to be passed at a distance from you. No, no, henceforward I will enjoy the happiness permitted me by Providence, and henceforward your husband, yourself, and your old father, shall live in indissoluble union."
Bertha's only reply was to throw herself weeping on the neck of the old man, who, mistaking both the movement and the tears which accompanied it, tenderly pressed his daughter in his arms, saying, "Why, you little simpleton, if joy thus agitates and overcomes you, what effect would grief have? To tell you the truth," added Pierre Raimond, and smiling, "though I affect all this stoicism and resolution, I am as much delighted and moved as yourself at the thoughts of our never again being parted from each other;" and with these words he passed his trembling hand across his humid eyes.
The situation of Bertha was most cruel.
Not content with filling up the measure of her own injuries, M. de Brévannes had just taunted her with the trifling pittance granted by him to her father, and now, at this moment, was Pierre Raimond, deceived by the generous deception of his daughter, preparing to take up his abode with M. de Brévannes, promising himself uninterrupted harmony and domestic happiness.
Until then Bertha had contrived to conceal her bitter sorrows, and to attribute her dejection of spirits to her regret at living away from him; but the cruel contrast presented by the hopes and expectations of Pierre Raimond with the scene of violence and outrage which had occurred but the previous night between Bertha and M. de Brévannes, overthrew the fortitude of the miserable wife, and left her almost paralysed with fear and bewildered ideas. Instead, therefore, of receiving her father's announcement with all the delight it merited, she involuntarily threw herself into his arms, bedewing his venerable countenance with her tears.