"And not greatly grieved either?"
"If your regret for her should be very great, my grief would be equally great, my poor child. If on the other hand you should bravely make the best of it, I should say that it was better so, and that you can surely find a more prudent and stronger-willed woman to love."
"Poor Julie!" said Julien to himself, "so her love for me was a mistake and a weakness even in my mother's eyes!—Well, set your mind at rest," he said aloud. "She renounces the dream we dreamed together; she no longer believes in it, she is afraid that I will remind her of it. All that you foresaw has proved to be true; Marcel has just told me so. I have given him my word that I will never see her again."
"Great Heaven!" exclaimed Madame Thierry in dismay, "how calmly you say that! Is it true that you are really so tranquil in your mind as this?"
"As you see. I was overwhelmed the first few days, and I did not conceal it from you to any great extent; but as time passed, I understood Madame d'Estrelle's silence. The tranquillity that you observe to-day is the result of two months of reflection. So don't be surprised at it, and believe that I am proud enough and sensible enough to overcome the pain I may have felt."
Julien's resolution was not feigned, he was perfectly honest in it. But he suffered too keenly to half confess his suffering. The better way was to refrain from any confession whatsoever.
In the evening, as it was very warm, Julien went out to take a bath in the river. Ordinarily he joined a number of young artists employed in the porcelain factory, whom he advised and instructed. But on this evening, feeling that he must be alone, he avoided them and went to a deserted spot on the outskirts of a piece of woodland. It was dull, lowering weather; Julien jumped into the water mechanically, and suddenly this thought came to his mind as he was swimming about:
"This is a terrible blow, from which I feel that I can never recover. If I should stop paddling here for a few moments, the water would swallow up my grief and keep the secret of my discouragement."
As he reflected thus, Julien ceased to swim and sank rapidly. He thought of his mother's despair, and when he touched bottom, he pushed himself up with his foot and returned to the surface. He was a good swimmer and could play with death thus without any risk; but the temptation was strong, and the thought of suicide produces a terrible vertigo. Three times he abandoned himself to the temptation, with increasing excitement, and three times he recovered himself, with decreasing resolution. As a fourth paroxysm, more violent than the others, was impending, Julien rushed ashore, afraid of himself, and threw himself on the sand, crying:
"Forgive me, mother!"