He did not draw from it any deduction favorable to his hopes, for it was in a piteous sort of voice that he answered his cousin's direct interrogatory,—
"Alas, Pierre, it is only too probable! I confess that all that I have said is only a dream. In truth, it would not be sufficient for the fulfilment of my dream that Babette should be dearly loved; there must be a little love on her side as well, otherwise she would still be wretched. Now, the man who would be willing thus to buy his own happiness from Babette at the price of forgetfulness would doubtless have to make excuses for some disadvantages on his own side; he would probably not be young nor handsome,—in a word, not lovable. Thus there is no likelihood that Babette would consent to become his wife, and that is why all that I have said is, I fear, nought but idle dreaming."
"Yes, it was a dream," said Babette, sadly, "but not for the reasons that you give, my cousin. The man who would be generous enough to come to my rescue by such devotion, though he should be the most withered and ugly of his sex, ought to be young and beautiful in my sight; for his very act would show a freshness of soul which is not always to be found in the youth of twenty; nor can such kind and generous thoughts fail to leave the imprint of nobleness upon the features. I should find him worthy of my love, too, for he would have given me the greatest proof of his affection that woman could receive. My duty and my pleasure would be to love him all my life and with all my heart, and so that would be very easy. But the impossible and improbable part of your dream, my cousin, would be to find any one capable of such self-abnegation for a poor girl, without charm, and dishonored as I am. There may be men noble enough and kind-hearted enough to entertain for an instant the idea of such a sacrifice, and that is a great deal; but upon reflection, even they would hesitate, and withdraw at the last moment, and I should fall once more from hope to despair. Such, my good Jean, are the real reasons why what you said was nought but a dream."
"And what if it were the truth after all?" said Gabriel suddenly rising from his chair.
"What, what do you say?" cried Babette, completely bewildered.
"I say, Babette, that this devoted, generous heart does exist," replied Gabriel.
"Do you know the man?" asked Pierre, deeply moved.
"I do know him," replied the young man, smiling. "He loves you indeed, Babette, but with the affection of a father as well as of a lover,—an affection which longs to cherish and forgive you. Thus you may accept without reservation this sacrifice of his, in which is no possibility of error, and which is induced only by most tender compassion and most sincere devotion. Besides, you will give as much as you receive, Babette: you will receive honor, but you will bestow happiness; for he who loves you stands alone in the world, joyless, with no interests to make life sweet to him and nothing to hope for in the future. But you will bring him all these things; and if you consent, you will make him as happy to-day as he will make you some day hereafter. Do I not speak the truth, Jean Peuquoy?"
"But, Monsieur le Vicomte, I am ignorant," stammered Jean, trembling like a leaf.
"Very true, Jean," continued Gabriel, still smiling; "there is really one thing that you don't perhaps know; that is, that Babette feels for him by whom she is beloved, not only profound esteem and deep-seated gratitude, but a holy affection. Babette, although she has not guessed it, has felt a vague presentiment of this love of which she is the object, and was at first relieved in her own heart, then touched by it, and finally made happy by the thought of it. Her violent aversion for the villain who deceived her dates from that time. That is why she went on her knees to her brother a moment ago to implore him not to insist on her union with that wretch, whom she only thought that she loved, in the mistaken innocence of her pure, young heart, and whom she loathes to-day with all the force with which she loves him who holds out a hand to rescue her from shame. Am I wrong, Babette?"