"My daughter.—I had formerly regretted having had no daughter. One is always in a hurry to pity oneself!"
Then she seemed to gather a little strength, sufficient to inquire:
"Elizabeth, he will come back some day, I am certain of it. When he does, will you promise me that you will forgive him, forgive him without any restriction?"
How could Elizabeth refuse?
"I promise you," she said solemnly.
"That is right," answered Mme. Derize, "if he were there, I should have tried to join your hands. It is not time yet."
On the fifth day she appeared to be resigned to the fact that her son would not return. It was her last hope. She wished to see Philippe Lagier, who came every day to inquire about her. Their interviews, entirely alone, were of short duration; talking was already too much for her. She charged him to tell his friend of Elizabeth's devotion and of the change which had taken place in her. Was he not called to that mission and how could she, in the purity of her heart, suspect the humiliation he had known, which quite recently, he had believed to be incompatible with his engagement? Finally with great effort and frequent pauses, she expressed this singular confidence, which revealed to what degree she had thought of all the possibilities of reconciliation.
"On Albert's last visit, so few days ago, I knew that he was not happy. I was expecting that. Happiness cannot endure, except in truth. Then I thought that I would go to Paris, that I would go to see her."
"To see her?" repeated Philippe, who could not believe his ears.
"Yes, her. I have thought a great deal about it. Albert could not have broken so many ties for a miserable love. I knew him to be incapable of wickedness, although he is passionate and proud. Now this plan can no longer be realized...."