"If we were to go there again—in humbleness of spirit this time, in contrition, beseeching pardon for our error—do you think it might be undone?"
"Oh, let us try, let us try!" cried the girl, seizing her hand. And she, too, wept. "But I could not refund more than about half the money," she faltered, dismayed.
"I would not ask you to refund a son of it," said madame de Val Fleury. "You should keep it as a marriage portion."
In the flat they talked till late, mingling their tears and comforting each other.
Nearly four months had to pass before the coming of the date they craved, but on the evening of the 6th of September the two victims of their own folly reached St. Pierre des Champs once more. And in the eerie market-place, the lanterns swayed amid the flitting figures, and again they heard the shrill clamour of the crone, shuffling among the naked stalls. "Fine faces cheap!" And the long, long night grew cold, and the penitents' teeth chattered; and as the elder knelt and prayed, as never had she prayed before, the pebbles bit into her knees.
A few days afterwards, monsieur Septfous, in the private office of the bank, saw the door open to admit a caller that surprised him.
"My dear madame de Val Fleury," he exclaimed, "how delighted I am to greet you! Dare I hope you have returned to Paris for good?"
"For good, my friend—the country got on my nerves. At my time of life not every change is desirable," replied the old lady, beaming.
And subsequently one man said to another: