"Renée, ma chérie," she said, "why are you lying on the bed? Mon Dieu! what is the matter—what have they been doing to you?"
"Oh! nothing, Maman, really nothing. I am only a little tired, I suppose it must be the heat," said Renée, trying to smile through her tears.
"Come downstairs at once, the soup will be quite cold, and we are all waiting for you."
Renée washed her face, and followed Madame Villebois downstairs into the dining-room, trying to smile all the time, but looking so dreadfully miserable that everyone felt distressed and sorry for her. Fortunately Pierre was not there, and as soon as she sat down next to Delapine she became calm at once.
The professor squeezed her hand under the table, and said something which evoked a happy smile.
"Courage, Renée ma chérie," he whispered. "Take courage. Some day it will all come right, but not yet—not yet. The night comes, and with it much sorrow—much sorrow first. I can see it all clearly—it must be; but the joy will be all the greater when the morning breaks. There is no rose without a thorn; no crown without a cross; no salvation without sacrifice. Remember this, my beloved, for your little bark is just entering the storm. You will be shipwrecked first, but when the masts are broken, and the sails are blown away, and all hope abandoned, then, but not till then will salvation be at hand. Remember, dear, what I have said, for I shall not be able to help you, although I shall be with you always. Patience, ma chérie, always patience and courage."
A shiver went through her as she heard this, and she could not conceive what he meant, but she was too frightened to ask him. When dinner was over she went out of doors, and sat in the little summer house, hoping that the night breezes might cool her fevered brain.
"Remember what I have said, for I shall not be able to help you, although I shall be with you always—what could Henri mean?" And she puzzled her little head trying in vain to make sense of it. She sat musing for some time looking up at the stars and the fleecy clouds which continually floated across the face of the moon, when suddenly she became aware of someone stealthily approaching. She saw no one, but felt that someone was watching her. She heard a slight cough, and looking round saw Pierre approaching behind her.
"Good evening, dear Renée," said Pierre, holding out his hand and smiling. "I hope it is not too chilly for you out here? I caught sight of you in the summer house, and came to bring you this cloak to wrap round you."
Renée suffered him to put the cloak round her shoulders, but she was too distracted with the memory of Delapine's words to listen, and too indifferent to Pierre's attentions to thank him.