"Call thy belle grand'mère back to me, Margot," he said.
Margot fetched the poor woman. She came in, trembling from head to foot.
"I have told him; he had to know," whispered Margot.
The old man's eyes were bright now with some of the brightness of yore; his voice was firmer, too.
"Listen, Ninon," he said, "behold! Keep thy hand in mine, Margot, beloved. Ninon, I thought thou wert truthful, and I thought this child truthful, but she, la petite, has told me all the truth at last. I cannot appear before the Great Almighty with the sin of pride on my soul. Behold, now, we are all alike in Heaven; only make me one promise, Ninon. Never again shall this little one enter the établissement of Madame Marcelle, never except to buy."
"She shall not, mon Alphonse," said Ninon, falling at his side and burying her face in the counterpane and beginning to weep.
"Thy tears distress me," said the old man. "Behold la petite, she does not weep."
"I come of those who regard tears as not wise," said Margot; "but, behold! I promise thee, grandpère, I promise with all—all my heart. I will never again sell in the établissement Marcelle."
"Then see! how happy I am," said M. le Comte. "I am in the palace of truth. For a long time I lived in the palace of lies; gorgeous in colour was that palace and very beautiful to the senses, nevertheless it was the palace of lies. Now I breathe the healthy air of truth. Thou hast spoken, mon enfant; thou hast promised, ma Ninon; there is no pride left. For me, I also did wrong. The spirit of pride led me wrong."
"Then, grand'mère, we are all happy together," said Margot; "but see!—do not talk, he has fallen asleep."