The old lady shook her head, as aged persons do when they fancy themselves certain of a thing.
"No weak illusions, my son," she said, in a firm voice; "be a man—prepare yourself for a speedy and inevitable separation. But promise me one thing."
"Speak, mother."
"Whatever may happen, swear not to send me away from you again."
"Why, mother, you order me to commit a murder. In your present state you could not lead my mode of life for two days."
"No matter, my son, I will not leave you again: take the oath I demand of you."
"Mother!" he said, hesitating.
"You refuse me, my son!" she exclaimed, in pain.
Valentine felt almost heart-broken; he had not the courage to resist longer.
"Well," he murmured, sorrowfully, "since you insist, mother, be it so; I swear that we shall never be separated again."