When Veronique saw the joyousness of her friends as they held out their hands to help her into the largest of the boats, tears came into her eyes and she kept silence till they touched the bank of the first causeway. As she stepped into the second boat she saw the hermitage with Grossetete sitting on a bench before it with all his family.
“Do they wish to make me regret dying?” she said to the rector.
“We wish to prevent you from dying,” replied Clousier.
“You cannot make the dead live,” she answered.
Monsieur Bonnet gave her a stern look which recalled her to herself.
“Let me take care of your health,” said Roubaud, in a gentle, persuasive voice. “I am sure I can save to this region its living glory, and to all our friends their common tie.”
Veronique bowed her head, and Gerard rowed slowly toward the island in the middle of the lake, the largest of the three, into which the overflowing water of the first was rippling with a sound that gave a voice to that delightful landscape.
“You have done well to make me bid farewell to this ravishing nature on such a day,” she said, looking at the beauty of the trees, all so full of foliage that they hid the shore. The only disapprobation her friends allowed themselves was to show a gloomy silence; and Veronique, receiving another glance from Monsieur Bonnet, sprang lightly ashore, assuming a lively air, which she did not relinquish. Once more the hostess, she was charming, and the Grossetete family felt she was again the beautiful Madame Graslin of former days.
“Indeed, you can still live, if you choose!” said her mother in a whisper.
At this gay festival, amid these glorious creations produced by the resources of nature only, nothing seemed likely to wound Veronique, and yet it was here and now that she received her death-blow.