“Yes.”
“O Clement, my dear Clement! truly, I love you as I never loved you before!”
“Gabrielle,” said Clement in a low and trembling voice, “do not say that.”
“Why not?” said Fleurange. “I think so, and it is the truth.”
“Because—because, if they are often to be blamed who are wanting in honor and duty, there is nothing particularly praiseworthy in those who are faithful.”
“Nevertheless, my dear cousin, if I love you better than before, you must not be displeased, but I will not say so again if it offends you.”
There was a moment’s silence. Fleurange was lost in profound reverie. She soon resumed, in a grave tone: “Now I understand the state of affairs, I see our life is to assume an entirely new aspect.”
“Yes, entirely,” said Clement, with a dull anguish.
“This dear Old Mansion,” continued Fleurange, “must it be left?”
“Yes,” said Clement; “it will have to be sold, with all it contains, for the produce of this sale is all my father will have to begin life anew with.”