"I have your word of honor to join me in twenty-four hours."
[VIII]
Palmer, who was really obliged to remain in Florence and to send Thérèse away, felt a mortal pang as he watched her go. And yet the danger that he dreaded did not exist. The chain could not be rewelded. Laurent did not even think of trying to stir Thérèse's passions; but, feeling sure that he had not lost her heart, he resolved to recover her esteem. He resolved, do we say? No, he made no plan; he simply felt a natural longing to raise himself in the eyes of that woman who had grown so much greater in his mind. If he had appealed to her at that moment, she would have resisted him without difficulty; she would, perhaps, have despised him. He took pains not to do it, or, rather, he did not think of it. His instincts were too true to make such a mistake. In good faith, and with the utmost enthusiasm, he assumed the rôle of the man with the broken heart, of the chastised, humble child, so that, at the end of the journey, Thérèse wondered if he were not the victim of their fatal liaison.
During that three days' tête-à-tête, Thérèse was happy with Laurent. She saw a new era of exquisite sentiments opening before her, an unexplored road, for she had hitherto walked alone in it. She enjoyed keenly the pleasurable sensation of loving without remorse, without anxiety, and without a struggle, a pale-faced, feeble creature, who was no longer aught save a soul, so to speak, and whom she fancied she had found again beyond this life, in the paradise of pure spirits, as one dreams of finding one's self after death.
And then she had been deeply wounded and humiliated by him, stirred up and irritated against herself; that love, which she had accepted with so much courage and grandeur of soul, had left a stain, as a purely sensual liaison would have done. Then had come a moment when she had despised herself for allowing herself to be so grossly deceived. So she felt as if she were born again, and she became reconciled with the past when she saw growing upon the grave of that buried passion a flower of enthusiastic friendship lovelier than the passion had been even in its best days.
It was the 10th of May that they arrived at Spezzia, a small picturesque town, half-Genoese and half-Florentine, at the head of a bay as smooth and blue as the loveliest sky. The season for sea-bathing had not arrived. The country round about was an enchanted solitude, the weather cool and exquisite. At sight of that beautiful, calm water, Laurent, whom the carriage journey had fatigued somewhat, decided to go by sea. They inquired about means of transportation; a small steamboat went to Genoa twice a week. Thérèse was glad that it did not start that same evening. Her patient had twenty-four hours for rest. She bade him engage a cabin on the boat for the following day.
Laurent, although he still felt decidedly weak, had never been so well. He slept and ate like a child. The delicious languor of the first days of complete cure caused a blissful sort of confusion in his mind. The memory of his past life vanished like a bad dream. He felt and believed that he was radically changed forever. In this new life, he seemed not to have the faculty of suffering. He left Thérèse with a sort of triumphant joy amid his tears. This submission to the decrees of destiny was in his eyes a voluntary expiation for which she should give him due credit. He had not sought it, but he had accepted it at the moment when for the first time he realized the value of what he had hitherto failed to appreciate. He carried this craving for self-immolation so far as to tell her that she must love Palmer, that he was the best of friends and the greatest of philosophers. Then he cried abruptly:
"Don't say anything, Thérèse. Don't speak to me of him! I don't feel strong enough yet to hear you say that you love him. No, keep quiet! it would kill me! But be sure that I love him, too! What more can I say?"
Thérèse did not once mention Palmer's name; and when Laurent, less heroic, questioned her indirectly, she replied:
"Hush! I have a secret which I will tell you later, and which is not what you think. You could not guess it, so don't try."