“At all events, Denise, I will come to see you often.”
“But you won’t go to Paris right away; you won’t leave us for a long while——”
“No, I promise.”
“Remember that you are in your own house here; we built this cottage with what you gave Coco, so you see that it belongs to you.”
“No, Denise, this house is the boy’s fortune; I am too happy to have been able to contribute to his welfare, and I only regret that I didn’t use in this way all the money I have wasted on my pleasures!—Nothing is left to me from my follies; but something always remains of the good that one does!”
“Then you have reformed? You won’t fall in love any more—with every woman you see, will you?”
“Faith, Denise, I wouldn’t swear not to as yet. I received a bitter lesson on my fifth floor—and in my travels I turned it to no advantage whatever. Ah! if I had won the love of a sincere, true-hearted, virtuous woman—like you, Denise—perhaps I should have reformed before this!”
“What, monsieur!” said Denise, blushing; “do you mean that I don’t love you?”
“No—you love me like a brother, I know, and your touchingly warm welcome of me, the delight that my return has caused you, show plainly enough your deep affection for me; but, my dear Denise, there is a sweeter, tenderer sentiment which I hoped to inspire in you before you told me that you could never love me. Don’t lower your eyes, Denise; I am not reproaching you; we cannot control our hearts, and I admit that I did not deserve yours. I tried to accustom myself to look upon you as a sister; that is what I have been trying to do ever since our interview in your aunt’s garden. It will be hard, but with time I shall succeed—perhaps. Let us leave that subject; I am so happy to be with you now!—Well! haven’t you anything to say to me, Denise?”
“Yes, monsieur, yes! But you must feel the need of rest.”