THE RECONCILIATION.
"I thank you, Antoine," the marquis said, in a trembling voice. "Now, come and embrace me!"
The count's embrace was passionate and enthusiastic; the marquis's calm and constrained.
Meanwhile, the Cardonnet family inspected the ruins, and Monsieur de Boisguilbault retired with Antoine to the pavilion to rest. No one heard their conversation. Neither of them ever divulged its subject. Did they exchange delicate and seemingly impossible explanations? It is hardly probable. Did they agree never thereafter to make the slightest allusion to their long feud, and to take up their friendship just where they had dropped it? It is certain that, from that moment, they talked together of the past without bitterness, and referred to former years with pleasure, sometimes blended with emotion and with merriment. But it was noticeable that these reminiscences never went beyond a certain date—that of Monsieur de Boisguilbault's marriage—and that the name of the marchioness was never mentioned between them. It was as if she had never existed.
When Gilberte returned, dressed as handsomely as she was able or wished to be, Emile was overjoyed to see that she had put on the lilac dress, which one more washing by Janille had made almost pink, and which, owing to the miracles of her economy and skill, still seemed fresh. She had braided her long hair, which reached to the ground, and in that superb abandon reminded her happy lover of the scorching day at Crozant. Of Monsieur de Boisguilbault's gifts she had retained only the bouquet and the cornelian ring, which she showed to the marquis with an affectionate smile. She was coquettish with him, coquettish with the heart, if we may so express it; and while the deference and consideration which she manifested toward Monsieur Cardonnet were somewhat forced, she yielded ingenuously to the inclination to treat the marquis, in her manner and in her thoughts, as if he were Emile's father.
As they were about to start, Monsieur de Boisguilbault took Janille's hand and invited her to drive with him, as courteously as if she had been Gilberte's mother. He was so far from being offended by hearing them call each other mother and my girl, that that close attachment had suddenly inspired in him a great esteem and secret gratitude for the old woman who had submitted to so much slander and vulgar jesting rather than reveal to anybody on earth, even friend Jappeloup—whom the marquis had for so long a time believed to be Antoine's confidant and messenger,—the secret of Gilberte's birth.
Monsieur Cardonnet could not restrain a disdainful smile at this invitation.
"Monsieur Cardonnet," said Monsieur de Boisguilbault in an undertone, remarking that smile, "you will know and appreciate that woman when you see how she brings up your grandchildren."