“Audiffret,” the grandmother suddenly said to her son, laying her knitting on the table and her spectacles on her knitting;—“Audiffret, every day brings me a little nearer the end, and I would like to see this marriage take place before I die. You must hurry it as much as possible, now that it’s decided on. And if I can’t be present on the wedding-day, don’t forget, my children, that the old woman blessed you from the bottom of her heart to-night.”
And, without another word, she calmly took up the stockings and needles.
She had spoken almost without inflection, in a grave, calm tone, moving her lips only.
Every one was deeply moved. Livette looked at Renaud. He, carried away by his emotion, forgot everything except this new family that offered itself to him, the orphan. Livette saw it and was grateful to him for it. She felt that he was won back, like the stolen horse, and she sprang to her feet in a burst of enthusiasm.
“Kiss me, my betrothed!” said she proudly.
He kissed her with heartfelt sincerity.
The father and the grandmother looked on with eyes that gradually became dim with tears.
When he had pressed the father’s hand, Renaud turned to the grandmother, as she stuck her knitting-needle into the white hair that fluttered about her temples.
“Kiss me, grandmother!” he said, with a smile.
The old woman gave a leap, then stood erect, recoiling a little as if in fear: