When he had shut the door she turned to him and taking his two hands looked at him steadily with her clear eyes.
“She has refused to be your wife?”
“She ran away in tears.”
“Jean, my dear Jean, you did not understand.”
Her affectionate words soothed his pain, but also had the effect of softening his resolution, and he was ready to burst into tears.
“I am sure she does not love me,” he said. “I love her so much.”
She let go his hands and leaned against the table, seeming to collect her thoughts. What she was making up her mind to say was so serious. Could she answer for her daughter’s heart? Was she indeed sure that she herself quite understood? She looked at the young man whom she wished to have for her son, and remembered how loyal and brave he had been in the past. Above all she thought of Paule’s loving nature and her life in the days to come. Reassured, she smiled at Jean and spoke at last.
“You are quite wrong, Jean. Paule loves you.”
He shook his head. “Oh, no, Madame, do not trouble yourself to find explanations. Let me go away.”
“Do you think mothers can no longer guess their daughter’s secrets?”