M. de Langevy put an end to the conversation by saying he would consider—which seemed already a great step gained in favour of the lovers.
On the next day's dawn, Hector was at the Cottage of the Vines.
"Alas, alas!" said the old woman, throwing open the window, "the dear young lady is gone!"
"Gone!—you let her go!—but I will find her."
Hector ran to the Chateau d'Urtis. When he entered the park, he felt he was too late, for he saw a carriage hurrying down the opposite avenue. He rang the bell, and was shown in to the Duchess.
"'Tis you, Monsieur de Langevy," she said, sadly; "you come to see Mademoiselle Deshoulieres. Think of her no more, for all is at an end between you. On this earth you will meet no more, for in an hour she will have left the world. She is gone, with her maid, to the Convent of Val Chrétien."
"Gone!" cried Hector, nearly fainting.
"She has left a farewell for you in this letter." Hector took the letter which the Duchess held to him, and grew deadly pale as he read these lines:—
"Farewell, then! 'Tis no longer Daphnè who writes to you, but a broken-hearted girl, who is to devote her life to praying for the unhappy. I retire from the world with resignation. I make no complaint: my two days' dream of happiness is gone. It was a delicious eclogue—pure, sincere, and tender; but it is past—Adieu!"
Hector kissed the letter, and turned to the Duchess. "Have you a horse, madam?" he said.