“I shall have to say much of Monsieur Paul.”
“Speak—I will not lose a word!”
Honorine seated herself on Agathe’s bed and told her the story of the fatal liaison between Paul and Thélénie, which resulted in the duel and in her father’s death. She concluded thus:
“You have witnessed the regret, the remorse of the man who was the victor in that duel. From that day to this he has never ceased to try to find out what had become of you.—Will not you forgive him, as your father did?”
Agathe wept bitterly.
“My heart has no hatred,” she murmured; “it has nothing but regret.—So that cross in the ravine—that is the place.—Ah! that explains the inexplicable emotion that I felt. Poor father!—Oh! my dear, come, come quickly! You know where, don’t you?”
In a very few minutes, the two young women were ready to go out. Agathe went into the garden and gathered a bunch of flowers; then, with the bouquet in her hand, she took Honorine’s arm and they walked hastily, in silence and meditation, toward the ravine near the park of the Tower.
They reached the cross erected in that solitary place. Agathe knelt in front of it and prayed a long while; then, as she laid her nosegay on the grave, she spied, at the foot of the cross, some faded flowers, the remains of other bouquets laid there before her own. She picked up some of those flowers and placed them in her bosom. Then, leaning on Honorine’s arm, she took, more slowly now, the road leading back to Chelles.
The two friends had returned from that pious pilgrimage when Paul, Edmond and Freluchon made their appearance. Edmond ran forward and kissed the girl’s hands, crying:
“I know all! I am very happy in your happiness!”