She took the astonished Denise by the hand, and led her away by a path toward the other shore of the lake, leaving her mother and the rector, who seated themselves on the bench.
“Let her do as she wishes,” said Madame Sauviat.
A few moments later Veronique returned alone, and was taken back to the chateau by her mother and Monsieur Bonnet. Doubtless she had formed some plan which required secrecy, for no one in the neighborhood either saw Denise or heard any mention of her.
Madame Graslin took to her bed that day and never but once left it again; she went from bad to worse daily, and seemed annoyed and thwarted that she could not rise,—trying to do so on several occasions, and expressing a desire to walk out into the park. A few days, however, after the scene we have just related, about the beginning of June, she made a violent effort, rose, dressed as if for a gala day, and begged Gerard to give her his arm, declaring that she was resolved to take a walk. She gathered up all her strength and expended it on this expedition, accomplishing her intention in a paroxysm of will which had, necessarily, a fatal reaction.
“Take me to the chalet, and alone,” she said to Gerard in a soft voice, looking at him with a sort of coquetry. “This is my last excursion; I dreamed last night the doctors arrived and captured me.”
“Do you want to see your woods?” asked Gerard.
“For the last time, yes,” she answered. “But what I really want,” she added, in a coaxing voice, “is to make you a singular proposition.”
She asked Gerard to embark with her in one of the boats on the second lake, to which she went on foot. When the young man, surprised at her intention, began to move the oars, she pointed to the hermitage as the object of her coming.
“My friend,” she said, after a long pause, during which she had been contemplating the sky and water, the hills and shores, “I have a strange request to make of you; but I think you are a man who would obey my wishes—”
“In all things, sure that you can wish only what is good.”