“Henceforth we shall always be happy.”
“Yes, always.”
And as if to intensify the meaning of the word “always,” she murmured these strange words:
“Do not be afraid, my dear. I have accepted it, so as not to be a burden to you—”
“What do you mean?” I inquired anxiously.
She did not seem to have heard my interruption, and went on:
“Now I am so happy that I dare not refuse God—”
What was this mysterious compact that she had entered into, at first with unconscious delicacy and now renewed by deeds of mercy? The mystery was so painful to me that I leaned closer to her and entreated her:
“Raymonde, I beg of you, tell me what it is you have accepted.”
She threw back her head a little, looked at me with unspeakable gentleness, and let fall like an avowal of love: