"Go, you are free," said he; "I give you back your promise."
Micheline uttered a cry of triumph, which made him who had been her betrothed turn pale. She regretted not having hidden her joy better. She approached Pierre and said:
"Tell me that you forgive me!"
"I forgive you."
"You still weep?"
"Yes; I am weeping over my lost happiness. I thought the best means of being loved were to deserve it. I was mistaken. I will courageously atone for my error. Excuse my weakness, and believe that you will never have a more faithful and devoted friend than I."
Micheline gave him her hand, and, smiling, bowed her forehead to his lips. He slowly impressed a brotherly kiss, which effaced the burning trace of the one which he had stolen a moment before.
At the same time a deep voice was heard in the distance, calling Pierre.
Micheline trembled.
"'Tis my mother," she said. "She is seeking you. I will leave you.
Adieu, and a thousand thanks from my very heart."
And nimbly springing behind a clump of lilac-trees in flower, Micheline disappeared.