"We will bid you adieu, young ladies," said the old naval officer, then, turning to Ernestine, he said earnestly:
"It would grieve me too much to think that I had seen you to-day for the first and last time. Oh, have no fears, mademoiselle," exclaimed the old man, noting a slight expression of embarrassment on the girl's tell-tale face, "my gratitude gives me no excuse for intruding myself upon you, but I should consider it a great favour if you and Mlle. Herminie would occasionally permit me to call and see you,—for it is not enough to have a heart full of gratitude, one should at least be allowed to sometimes give expression to it."
"M. Bernard," replied Herminie, "this desire on your part is too natural for Ernestine and me to feel any inclination to oppose it; and some evening when Ernestine will be at liberty, we will let you know, and you must do us the honour to come and take a cup of tea with us."
"May I really?" the veteran exclaimed, joyfully. Then he added:
"Yes, yes, the world does indeed seem to be upside down, for it is those who are already under heavy obligations who have benefits heaped upon them by their benefactors; but I am more than resigned, so adieu, my dear young ladies, or, rather, au revoir. Are you ready, Olivier?"
But as he reached the door he paused, and seemed to hesitate, then after a moment's reflection he came back, and said:
"I cannot do it, my dear young ladies; I cannot carry my secret away with me."
"A secret, M. Bernard?"
"Yes; I have been on the point of telling it twice, but both times I have checked myself, because I had promised to keep silence; but after all, it is only right that Mlle. Ernestine, to whom I owe my life, should at least know why I am so glad to live—"
"I, too, think you owe Ernestine this reward, M. Bernard," said Herminie.