"
When Brigitte spoke thus, I experienced a feeling that resembled avarice;
I caught her in my arms and cried:
"O God! I know not whether it is with joy or with fear that I tremble. I
am about to carry off my treasure. Die, my youth, die all memories of the
past, die, all cares and regrets! O my good, brave mistress! You have
made a man out of a child. If I lose you now, I will never love again.
Perhaps, before I knew you, another woman might have cured me; but now
you, alone, of all the world, have power to destroy me or to save me, for
I bear on my heart the wound of all the evil I have done you. I have been
an ingrate, blind and cruel. God be praised! You love me still. If you
ever return to that home under whose lindens, where I first met you, look
carefully about that deserted house; you will find a fantom there, for
the man who left it, and went away with you, is not the man who entered
it."
"Is it true?" said Brigitte, and her head, all radiant with love, was
raised to heaven; "is it true that I am yours? Yes, far from this odious
world in which you have grown old before your time--yes, my child, you
are going to love. I will have you, such as you are, and wherever we go
you will forget the day when you will no longer love me. My mission will
have been accomplished, and I shall always be thankful for it."
Finally, we decided to go to Geneva and then choose some resting-place in
the Alps.
Pages:
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220
221
222
223
224
225
226