“He is here.”
The girl blushed, but the darkness hid her. The golden lights were already fading from the mirror.
“Let us go and find him,” said Madame Guibert.
She lead Paule by the hand into the drawing-room.
“Jean,” she said, “here is your wife!”
She joined their hands. But they did not look at each other yet. A similar emotion filled their hearts. Jean was the first to raise his eyes. The tears Paule had shed, if they lessened the beauty of her features, took away the pride of her expression and in its place brought a humbler, more touching look. He loved her all the more for her womanly weakness.
“I may be certain of my happiness?” were his first words.
With a sigh she answered, “Oh, yes....”
“Paule, I love you,” he said.
She repeated after him in a voice that was scarcely audible: “I love you, Jean.”