They bent reverently; but Eve extended her arms: Louise found herself pressed against her heart.
The marquis, seeing Eve so radiant, renewed his hope:
"She is saved!" he said to Madame du Castellet. "The presence of these young lovers has done her good. Have them come often, I pray you. But I should leave them together. Adieu, my children, adieu!"
He was carried back to the great hall. However, the governess trembled; she saw at last the fatal truth. The heiress's great blue eyes were fixed on hers; the old lady's trouble increased. Eve put her finger on her lips, and drawing her to one side:
"Why are you still distressed, my good cousin," she said to her; "do you not see how happy I am in their happiness?"
Gaston's aunt retired heart-broken, doubtful of her suppositions, not daring to hope for the young girl's recovery.
Eve was seated between the two lovers:
"I demand a part in your joy, my friends, and I wish that my memory may always live with you."
Then she recounted with simplicity the history of her four last years. The praises which she gave to Louise's filial piety penetrated the hearts of the two betrothed, who wished to prostrate themselves before her, her words had so much purity, sweetness, and unction. Louise reproached herself, as if it were a sacrilege, for the thought of pride which she had felt at the ball. Gaston was under an indefinable impression of tenderness and of gratitude. Eve addressed him with noble and tender encouragement. Eve, with a pious ardor, made wishes for the felicity of their union; finally, when they were retiring she divided between them a branch of jasmine.
"Preserve this," she said, "in memory of me."