"Ah! monsieur, how lucky it is that you happened to be here to drive that miserable scamp away! He wouldn't listen to me—but you! Why, you gave him such a shaking that I warrant he'll never come again. You have done Madame Dermont a very great service, I promise you!"
"Has she really gone out?"
"No, monsieur, no; she hardly ever goes out lately; but those were my orders for that rascal. You can go up, of course; she'll be glad to see you."
Adhémar went upstairs, but paused at Nathalie's door; he was intensely excited.
"She hardly ever goes out, so the concierge said," he thought. "Has she been sick? Am I the cause of it? Oh! this infernal jealousy! How will she receive me? No matter! I will see her, and die at her feet if she doesn't forgive me."
He rang with a trembling hand; the maid opened the door, and uttered a cry of joy when she saw who it was. Servants almost always divine their mistress's secret thoughts, and this one was very sure that Adhémar's return would bring back joy and happiness to the house, which had been very gloomy since he had ceased to come.
"Ask Madame Dermont if she will see me," said Adhémar.
The servant, with a beaming face, hurried away to her mistress, and returned almost immediately to say that he might go in. Adhémar did not wait for the words to be repeated. He found Nathalie holding her embroidery frame in her hand, but not working. A glance sufficed to show him that she was pale and changed, and that her features wore an expression of profound melancholy. Adhémar could contain himself no longer; he rushed forward and threw himself at Nathalie's feet; he seized her hands and pressed them in his own, crying:
"Mercy! forgive me! if you could only know how I have reproached myself! but I will not offend again, I swear! I am cured. Oh! I have been so unhappy ever since I saw you last!"
"And what about me, monsieur? Do you think that I have not been unhappy? Why didn't you come back sooner? What prevented you?"