"We will take her to Penhouet for a month," said François Darbois's note to the Countess, "and when she is quite cured we will send her to you in Brussels."
The Duke was in despair at the idea of hearing that Esperance was to go away. He complained to Maurice whom he saw every day, "Can I not see Esperance?"
"Yes, but only for a few seconds," said the young painter. "I believe that you will have to wait several months before you can renew your love. She is convalescent, but not cured. Here is a proposal for you: I am going to marry Mlle. Hardouin in two months. Come to our wedding. Your presence will seem quite natural, for you have treated me as a friend. I am very much attached to you and I am sure that my cousin will be very happy with you when you are married."
"But will she be well in two months?"
"The Doctor assures us that she will be quite herself, and it is by his advice that we have set that date for our marriage."
"Do you think Mlle. Hardouin would accept me as a witness?"
She will be delighted, and I thank you. Genevieve has no relations except her elder sister, who brought her up."
"I hope that this marriage will recall Esperance's promise to her.
Meantime I shall go to Italy for about the two months. Will you see if
I may say good-bye to her?"
"I will go now."
He was soon back again.