“Yes!” replied the old man. “But I am also about to leave you! Such is the shadow which precedes my happiness to-day, to prevent my joy from falling into excess.”
“Think not of me, I beseech you!” cried Charney; proving, by his generous transports, and forgetfulness of self, how truly he deserved the friendship of which he was the object. “At last, you will be restored to her arms! At last, she will cease to suffer from the consequence of my rashness! You will be happy, and I no longer oppressed by the heaviness of remorse. During the last few hours that remain for us to be together, we may at least talk of her unreservedly.”
And, as he uttered these last incoherent words, the Count de Charney threw himself into the arms of his venerable friend.
CHAPTER VII.
The knowledge of their approaching separation seemed only to augment the tender affection existing between the two friends. Seldom an hour apart, both seemed eager to continue till the last moment their conferences on the bench of the little court.
There was a solemn subject, to which Girardi often endeavoured to lead the way, but Charney invariably evaded the discussion. The old man was, however, too deeply interested in sounding the opinions of the Count to be easily discouraged, and one day an occasion unexpectedly presented itself for the accomplishment of his wishes.