Auguste smiled and held his peace. He continued to improve, but his convalescence bade fair to be very long; and as a sick man always requires innumerable things, the jewelry money was soon expended. Thereupon, while Auguste was asleep, Virginie looked over her wardrobe to see what she had that she could do without. In reality it contained nothing that was not strictly necessary, but she succeeded in finding several things of which she made a bundle, saying to herself:
“This will rid me of a lot of old stuff that I am sick to death of.”
And the bundle went to join the jewels.
When Auguste had recovered a little strength, he was able to tell Virginie the story of his adventures. When she learned that Bertrand had voluntarily left his master, she dropped a glass of medicine that she was about to hand to Auguste, and exclaimed:
“My arms have gone back on me! That Bertrand, whom I always thought worthy of being embalmed! whom I looked upon as a faithful dog in his attachment to you! You can’t trust a man! My friend, the English beer must have changed all his feelings!”
But when Auguste told her of his stay at Denise’s cottage, Virginie interrupted him to describe the peasant girl’s grief and despair when she learned of his departure—in short, all her love for him.
“Is it possible?” said Auguste; “she really loves me? Then she did not deceive me! it wasn’t pity that made her offer me her hand!”
“Does she love you! She adores you, monsieur. The poor child made me feel so sad. She cried so! But you men are unique! when a woman loves you, you’re surprised, and when she doesn’t love you, you’re surprised too.”
“Oh! how happy you make me, Virginie!”
“In that case, get well right away, and go and console poor Denise.”