“Father, father!” she implored, kneeling down beside him, “forgive me.... You have misunderstood me.... I failed in showing you proper regard, I was not careful enough ... but you know that I love you, that I am quite incapable of wishing to cause you any pain.”
M. Raindal looked at her with a softened glance. She insisted:
“Kiss me ... forgive me my quickness of temper.... I swear to you....”
Gently he forced her to her feet and set her on his knees as if she were a little child:
“All is forgotten.... I forgive you.... There, do cry, i over.... It is of no importance.”
Her voice checked by sobs, she went on:
“I swear to you, father ... it was for your own good....”
“What good?” said M. Raindal, and his arms relaxed their embrace. Thérèse replied diffidently:
“The good of your reputation, of your name.... You do not realize, father. You are blinded by your friendship.... But you are on the way to compromise both....”
M. Raindal jumped roughly to his feet and replied sarcastically: