"More reproaches!"
"Yes; for the worst ingratitude towards me, is to make your children unhappy."
"Leave the room, sir!" cried the marshal, quite beside himself, and so terrible with rage and grief, that Dagobert, regretting that he had gone so far, resumed: "I was wrong, general. I have perhaps been wanting in respect to you—forgive me—but—"
"I forgive you—only leave me!" said the marshal, hardly restraining himself.
"One word, general—"
"I entreat you to leave me—I ask it as a service—is that enough?" said the marshal, with renewed efforts to control the violence of his emotions.
A deadly paleness succeeded to the high color which during this painful scene had inflamed the cheeks of the marshal. Alarmed at this symptom, Dagobert redoubled his entreaties. "I implore you, general," said he, in an agitated mice, "to permit me for one moment—"
"Since you will have it so, sir, I must be the one to leave," said the marshal, making a step towards the door.
These words were said in such a manner, that Dagobert could no longer resist. He hung his head in despair, looked for a moment in silent supplication at the marshal, and then, as the latter seemed yielding to a new movement of rage, the soldier slowly quitted the room.
A few minutes had scarcely elapsed since the departure of Dagobert, when the marshal, who, after a long and gloomy silence, had repeatedly drawn near the door of his daughters' apartment with a mixture of hesitation and anguish, suddenly made a violent effort, wiped the cold sweat from his brow, and entered the chamber in which Rose and Blanche had taken refuge.