"Well," said Emile when they were alone, "you can bring me the martyr's crown! I have passed through the ordeal of fire; but God protects those who call upon him, and I have come out of it with clean hands and with no apparent burns: a little used up, to be sure, but calm and full of faith in the future. This morning, in full possession of my reasoning power and in perfect tranquillity of mind, I told my father what I had told him in the excitement, perhaps the delirium, of fever. He knows now that I shall never renounce my opinions, and that no fooling with my passion can procure him that triumph. He seems quite satisfied; for he thinks that he has succeeded in disgusting me with a marriage which he dreaded more than the fervor of my principles. He talked this morning about distracting my thoughts, sending me abroad, to Italy. I told him that I did not wish to leave France, nor this neighborhood even, unless he turned me out of his house. He smiled, and would not contradict me, because I was bled yesterday; but to-morrow he will talk to me in the character of the stern friend, the day after to-morrow as the irritated father, and the next day as the imperious master. Don't be alarmed about me, my friend; I shall be brave, calm and patient. Whether he condemns me to exile, or keeps me with him to torture me, I will show him that love is very strong when it is inspired by enthusiasm for the true, and sustained by the ideal."
"Emile," said the marquis, "I know through your friend Jean all that has taken place between your father and yourself, also the great victory that your heart has won. My mind was at rest before I came here."
"I knew, my friend, that you had become reconciled with that simple-hearted but admirable man. He told me that you were coming to see me; I was expecting you."
"Did he tell you nothing more?" said the marquis, gazing intently at Emile.
"No, nothing more, I assure you," Emile replied, with the emphasis of perfect sincerity.
"He did well to keep his promise," rejoined Monsieur de Boisguilbault; "you were too much excited by fever to endure fresh emotion. I have undergone violent emotions myself since we last met, but I am satisfied with the result, and I will tell you what it is. But not yet, Emile; you are too pale, and I am not sure enough of myself as yet. Don't come and see me to-day; I have other places to go to, and perhaps I will see you again when I return this way to-night. Will you promise me to eat some dinner and take care of yourself—in a word, to get well?"
"I promise, my friend. If I only could send word to the woman I love that, on resuming the free exercise of my life and my faculties, I find my love more ardent and more absolute than ever in the depths of my heart."
"Very well, Emile, write a few lines; not enough to tire you. I will come again to-night, and, if she doesn't live too far away, I will undertake to send your letter to her."
"Alas! my friend, I cannot tell you her name; but if the carpenter would take charge of it, now that I have recovered my strength and am no longer watched every moment, I could write."
"Write then, seal your letter, and do not address it The carpenter is working for me, and he shall have the letter before night."