"We are going together," said Véronique, firmly.
"Please," said Honorine, in a voice of entreaty, "please don't be persistent. Let me have my way. I'll bring your father and your son to you this very evening, before dinner."
"But why?"
"The danger is too great, over there, for your father . . . and especially for you. Remember the four crosses! It's over there that they are waiting . . . . Oh, you mustn't go there! . . . The island is under a curse."
"And my son?"
"You shall see him to-day, in a few hours."
Véronique gave a short laugh:
"In a few hours! Woman, you must be mad! Here am I, after mourning my son for fourteen years, suddenly hearing that he's alive; and you ask me to wait before I take him in my arms! Not one hour! I would rather risk death a thousand times than put off that moment."
Honorine looked at her and seemed to realize that Véronique's was one of those resolves against which it is useless to fight, for she did not insist. She crossed herself for the third time and said, simply:
"God's will be done."