“My Leonore, can you, will you pardon me?” asked the duke on his knees before his wife, who put both her hands on the duke’s mouth, and said to him—
“Would you disturb the happiness of the present in calling back the memories of the past?”
“I wish that you know my faults, which the world has judged too severely; I wish to justify myself and repent.”
“And I, I wish to make a compact with you,” interrupted the duchess; “never speak to me of your faults, and I will never speak to you of my sufferings.”
Angel entered at that moment.
“Mamma weeps! mamma weeps!” he cried, sobbing.
“No, my child,” replied the duchess; “I weep for joy.”
“And why?” asked the child, whose smile had already succeeded to his tears.
“Because that, to-morrow, certainly,” said the duke, taking him in his arms, “we depart for our country-seat in Andalusia, which your mother desires to visit.”
Angel gave vent to a cry of pleasure, and, casting his arms around the necks of the duke and the duchess, he drew their heads together, and covered them with kisses.