"My dear child," said he, as he entered, "you yourself observed that this day seemed destined to be one of important discoveries and solemn explanations, but I did not then think your words would be so strikingly verified as they seem likely to be."
"Dear father, what has happened?"
"Fresh sources of uneasiness have arisen."
"On whose account?"
"On yours, my child. I fear you have only revealed to us a portion of your griefs."
"Be kind enough to explain yourself," said Fleur-de-Marie, blushing.
"Then hearken to me, my beloved child. You have, perhaps, good cause to fancy yourself unhappy. When, at the commencement of our conversation, you spoke of the hopes you still entertained, I understood your meaning, and my heart seemed broken by the blow with which I was menaced, for I read but too clearly that you desired to quit me for ever, and to bury yourself in the eternal seclusion of a cloister. My child, say, have I not divined your intentions?"
"If you would consent," murmured forth Fleur-de-Marie, in a faint, gasping voice.
"Would you, then, quit us?" exclaimed Clémence.
"The abbey of Ste. Hermangeld is in the immediate neighbourhood of Gerolstein, and I should frequently see yourself and my father."