Next day he went up with his books and his luggage.
"A curious time for a holiday in the mountains," thought the mule-driver, who brought his cases. It was already October and the last bathers had left. The old house at Saint Martin was so roomy that Elizabeth could give him a little suite on the top floor. She herself had summoned him. They lived under the same roof, they loved each other, and they could not give expression to their love. An unconquerable force held them back.
"She lives over there," she thought. "Does he often think of her?"
And, at the sight of her, so fragile and pale, with tender frightened eyes, he, beginning to understand all the sorrow he had made her suffer, treated her like a very delicate fiancée whom one must not frighten.
"Our first kiss will come from her," he hoped. "Had she forgotten? ..."
But he himself had not forgotten, would doubtless never forget Anne de Sézery. Although the suddenness of her disappearance had changed his remembrance of her, she had been one of the episodes which make a lasting impression on one's deeper nature, to which men often return in thought, when searching their past for marks of emotion. Only he had exhausted its worth. She no longer exerted any influence over him. If she had come back, she would not have regained her power, whereas Elizabeth, so well-loved before, added a charm and the attraction of the unknown to the strength of old desires and illusions. She was the living representation of his youth and a new wife as well, the finding of whom uplifted him.
Intimacy, with its thousand renewed ties, joined their lives. One day, blushing a little, she had begged him to undertake the management of her property. Thus she gave up her independence, placed herself again under her husband's protection, and restored to him the charge of the family, and, as a result of this, Albert felt more buoyant. The days went on monotonously. After work, there were long walks with the children, and in the evenings a little music, reading and plans for the future which they now made together. The season was advancing and they did not speak of leaving. With the solitude, happiness surrounded and besieged the hermitage of Saint Martin. What were they waiting, that they did not open the gates to it?
October, before it was over, gave to autumn that beauty which, in its dazzling monotony, summer never knows. The riot of color, the clearness of the air and that charm of all earthly things then constitute a sublime manifestation of the beauty of Nature.
"Papa, you promised to take me to the Chartreuse de Prémol," said Marie Louise.
"Did I? Very well, then we will all go there."