Madeleine retired, for she read in her mistress's eyes that the visit caused her no displeasure.
"Yes, Mademoiselle Adolphine," Gustave replied; "yes, my dear sister. Ah! allow me to call you by that name still, as I used, for we have had no falling-out; you have not spurned me, and I venture to hope that you still feel for me a little of that sweet friendship which you seemed to feel in the old days."
Adolphine was so perturbed that she could hardly stammer:
"Of course—yes—I have no reason not to be the same as always with you. But do sit down, Monsieur Gustave. Mon Dieu!—how strange it is!—it's only five months since we saw each other—and you seem changed—— Oh! not for the worse—on the contrary—you have a more serious, more thoughtful, air than before. Is it the result of your travels?"
Adolphine was right; the five months which Gustave had passed away from France had wrought a very considerable change in him, to his advantage; he had lost that bewildered, hare-brained look which people used to criticise in him; now he was a man—young, no doubt, but whose serious, sedate, sensible aspect indicated a person who was accustomed to think before speaking, and to reflect before acting. His face had gained vastly by the change; his manner was colder, perhaps, but you realized that you could rely on what he said. Lastly, the faintest shadow of melancholy that could still be detected on his brow gave an added charm to the gentle expression of his eyes and to the tone of his voice.
Adolphine saw all this at a glance: that is all a woman needs to draw a man's portrait. With trembling hand she pointed to a chair, and Gustave sat down beside her with an ease of manner which covered no hidden motive.
"I don't know whether my travels have changed me," said the young man; "they may, perhaps, have matured my mind somewhat; they have made me a better business man. I realize fully now that I did some things which lacked common-sense, and I shall not make such a fool of myself again!"
"Oh! you are cured of your love for Fanny?" cried Adolphine, with an expression of delight which she could not restrain.
"No, dear Adolphine, no, that is not what I meant!" replied Gustave, sadly; "do what I will, I haven't yet been able to drive that love from my heart. But I meant simply that that unhappy passion will not lead me into doing any more such absurd, unreasonable things as I once did. I have become a man; if I suffer, I can at least conceal my suffering. I have learned to respect the happiness of other people—the desire to disturb it is very far from my thoughts! I realize, in short, that I ought, above all things, to avoid the presence of her who cannot, should not, sympathize with the pain she causes me."
Adolphine turned her head away to conceal the tears which filled her eyes, murmuring: