Smith came almost every day. Although his presence in the house had been
the cause of all my sorrow, and although my visit to him had left
singular suspicions in my mind, still his apparent good faith and his
simplicity reassured me. I had spoken to him of the letters he had
brought, and he did not appear offended, but saddened. He was ignorant of
the contents and his friendship for Brigitte led him to censure them
severely. He would have refused to carry them, he said, if he knew what
they contained. On account of Brigitte's tone of reserve in his presence,
I did not think he was in her confidence. I therefore welcomed him with
pleasure, although there was always a sort of awkward embarrassment in
our meeting. He was asked to act as intermediary between Brigitte and her
relatives after our departure. When we three were together, he noticed a
certain coldness and restraint which he endeavored to banish by cheerful
good humor. If he spoke of our liaison, it was with respect and as a man
who looks upon love as a sacred bond; in fact, he was a kind friend, and
he inspired me with full confidence.
But despite all that, despite all his efforts, he was sad, and I could
not obliterate strange thoughts that came to my mind. The tears I had
seen that young man shed, his illness coming on at the same time as
Brigitte's, I know not what melancholy sympathy I thought I discovered
between them, troubled and disquieted me.
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