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“Then, my friend, I shall be re-united to Pauline- ja violent lunge at his adversary, received himself a for my daughter no longer lives ; I cannot doubt it--or sword-thrust, which passed through his body. she would have returned long since to hide her shame He grew pale--he staggered-he still desired to conin the bosom of her father. Besides, if there is justice tinue the fight, but the sword fell from his hands. in heaven, do you think it possible that in this duel I “The pistols!" mutters M. Guerreville, as he falls should be the sufferer ?”
on the turf-“let them give us the pistols.” “No--but the justice of heaven sometimes resem. “ You are no longer in a condition to hold one," says bles the justice of man; we do not always understand Edward, throwing his sword upon the ground. “I have its decrees."
washed out my affront-I have nothing more to do M. Guerreville, in return, merely presses the hand of here-I will send you the carriage, and the servant who his friend, and they proceed on their way in silence. attends : let us go, gentlemen; I can now be married."
The carriage reaches the gate of St. Mandé; they As he spoke, Edward took the arm of one of his order the driver to stop. The two friends get out, and seconds, and the three young men left the field. enter the wood. George is directed to follow them at Jenneval was on his knees by his friend; he raised a distance.
him and gave immediate assistance. M. Guerreville The quick glance of M. Guerreville is turned in soon began to lose consciousness, still mutteringevery direction among the trees, in search of his adver- "Pistols--give us pistols.'' sary. Edward Delaberge had not yet arrived.
George soon arrived; seeing his master wounded and “The coward--I must wait his coming! He would lying on the ground, the faithful servant uttered an insult me to the end,” says M. Guerreville, as he walks exclamation of despair, and asked the doctor if his to and fro impatiently under the trees.
master would die. “Be calm, my friend--try to compose yourself; you “Alas!" says Jenneval, “the wound appears to be are ill prepared for a rencontre in so much agitation." very deep and dangerous I cannot answer for its con
“ Ah! Jenneval, long has been the day that I have sequences. Poor Guerreville ! wounded-conquered-sighed for this meeting! Moments seem to me like when he was fighting for his child, to avenge her ho
nor--and the wretch who has wronged her, escapes In four or five minutes Edward Delaberge arrives, unharmed. Ah! I had reason for saying that the jus. with two of the young gentlemen who had been present tice of heaven sometimes resembles that of man.” in the morning at Madam Dolbert's.
The doctor and George take M. Guerreville in their Į “There he is! there he is !” cries M. Guerreville. arms, and bear him to the carriage. “Ah, 1 breathe again: I feared that he would not Jenneval places himself there by the side of his
friend, and the coachman drives as gently as possible to The three young men advance. Edward had a cold, Paris. undisturbed air. They direct their steps to a retired Jenneval places himself by the bedside of M. Guerrepart of the wood. M. Guerreville soon pauses, with ville; he will not leave him for a moment as long as he the exclamation-" This spot will answer!”
considers him in danger; and if he cannot save him, he “I have brought pistols,” says Edward. “As to that, will at least be present to receive his last commands, however, if you prefer the sword, it is entirely indiffer- and to close his eyes. ent to me."
That night, at about eight o'clock, some one calls at “ Very well,” says M. Guerreville ; “the sword the house of the wounded man; it is Jerome, who had we shall have a nearer view."
come to learn the result of M. Guerreville's visit to Jenneval presents to the two combatants the swords Madam Dolbert. which he carried under his cloak; each takes one with The doctor shows M. Guerreville, still lying senseout examining the other.
less on his bed, to the water-carrier, and says to him : “Sir,” exclaims M. Guerreville, putting himself on “There is the result of his visit to Madam Dolbert
. guard, “I fight for my daughter whom you have stolen. In this Edward Delaberge, who was about to marry the One of us may fall in this combat. Before crossing our young Stephanie, my friend recognized a man who had swords, I demand to know of you what has become of deeply wronged him--a wretch, of whom he had been a my child.”
long time in pursuit. He insulted him. They fought. “Sir,” replies Delaberge, in an insolent tone, “I have the wrong.doer triumphed—that often happens." already told you that I knew neither your daughter “Oh my God!" mutters the Auvergnese; “Woundnor yourself. I understood nothing of the scene that ed—mortally wounded perhaps! and it is I who have took place this morning at Madam Dolbert's; and these been the cause." gentlemen are the witnesses that I fight you only for "You! oh, do not reproach yourself, Jerome ; my the blow which you have given me.”
poor friend, on the contrary, has blessed you, for har“ Wretch!” says M. Guerreville ; “let us see if you ing led him to this man whom he has so long sought". will persist in your denial."
“And this wound! oh, sir, is it possible that he will At the same moment their blades cross-the comba- die of it?" tants assail each other with earnestness; but with M. “I have great fears ; but if I can save him at all, his Guerreville there was more ardor, more passion, than recovery will be very slow." prudence--whilst Edward, who was a very skilful “So brave a man! and the scoundrel who wounded swordsman, applies himself merely to parrying the him is unharmed-he-oh! it is not right— Monsieur blows of his adversary, and exhausting his strength. Guerreville, my benefactor-a man so good, so gener
The combat continued for some time with equal ad- ous! Adieu, good doctor, adieu ; I shall come every vantage on both sides, when M. Guerreville, in making day to inquire after him.”
And Jerome departs, muttering between his teeth “A word with you, sir,” says Jerome, placing him“ Oh! it is all the same-it is I who was the cause of self in front of Edward, directly in his pathway. his fighting—this brave man !-and-but it shall not “ What do you want of me?" asks the young man, end here."
who was somewhat startled by this unexpected apparition, at night, and in a retired road.
“Oh! presently-be easy, I am no robber, and I ask THE SEQUEL.
nothing of your purse.” “What do you want then ?"
“ You are M. Edward Delaberge--are you not ?"
“Undoubtedly.” Edward understands very well that his engagement “ Then I wish to fight with you." will be broken off, if M. Guerreville should again see “You fight with me!” replies Edward, disdainfully; Madam Dolbert; but he knows not how to prevent" indeed I do not fight with all the world.” their meeting, since the good lady makes no secret of Very likely--but you will fight with me.” her desire of an interview.
“And why? On what provocation? I don't know “They will refuse me Stephanie,” says Edward, you. I never saw you before.” overflowing in his rage. “Well, well-if they are not “And what of that? I am Jerome; by occupation willing that she shall be my wife, I will use other means; a water-carrier ; and an honest man, I flatter myself. but mine she shall be. I will go to their country seat. I know you-I know that you fought some time ago It will not be difficult to gain admission to a house that with M. Guerreville. I am ignorant of the wrong you is tenanted only by females. Oh! I will succeed; I have done him—but he says you are a scoundrel, and have always succeeded in what I have resolutely under- when a man of honor says that, it must be true. In taken."
short, you gave him a severe wound, of which he nearly And M. Delaberge departed with his valet de cham- died. This M. Guerreville is my benefactor, and I bre, Dupré. He took up his lodgings in a retired inn, have come to revenge him. Do you understand now ?” at the end of the village, and returned to reconnoitre “Ah! M. Guerreville has chosen you for his defrom a distance the dwelling of Madam Dolbert, when fender !" he was recognized by Jerome. The water-carrier had “M. Guerreville has not chosen me; M. Guerreville determined to revenge the injury of M. Guerreville, does not even suspect what I am doing—for he would and had tracked Edward from Paris.
probably have forbidden me, in the hope of fighting Edward returned to his lodgings. He called his ser- you again himself, as soon as he recovers. But it is I vant. “Nothing so easy,” said he, “as to get into these who have promised myself the pleasure of fighting you, ladies' house. It is mere child's play. You told me and of gaining what a brave man has lost. Come on. that Stephanie's chamber was that which makes the I hope I have given you reasons enough—now we'll corner looking out on the road.”
fight." “Yes sir, I am sure of it."
“No, I will not fight with you—with a man I don't “I shall only have to climb the garden wall, and from know. Once more, sir, let me pass.” that I can easily reach the window. Your shoulders “Come, come no nonsense--you shall not go." will serve me for a ladder. The rest I can compass “Know that a man of my rank cannot fight with alone. It seems very odd to scale the window of a an-I know not whom!" woman whom I am to marry--but i'faith I am obliged “With an I know not whom! an I know not whom!" to do it. And afterwards, they will no doubt beseech me exclaims Jerome, approaching still nearer Edward, and to marry her—but I am not so certain that it will be looking him full in the face. “Ah! it is true. I am an my inclination. So, this evening, at ten o'clock, I will I know not whom,' because I wear a frock--because I go out some time before you, that there may seem to live in a garret, and gain my bread by the sweat of my be no concert. At ten precisely you will be at the spot brow! But you! oh, you are not an 'I know not whom! I have mentioned."
You have a fortune ! and what is more, you are an inPrecisely, sir; but is not ten o'clock too early ?” solent, shabby fellow--and a coward into the bargain,
Oh, no; in the country, you know, Madam Dol. I see.” bert retires at nine. At ten, every soul in the house “ Idiot,” exclaims Edward in a rage, " you shall pay will be sound asleep."
dearly for this outrage." These arrangements concluded, Edward Delaberge “All in good time! You are in a passion at last-it orders the best dinner that can be furnished at a coun- is lucky! Come on-quick-to work.” try inn; and when he has finished his repast he goes out And taking two enormous clubs that he had left beto walk in the fields.
hind the hedge, Jerome presents them to Edward, sayBut a man had been waiting for the traveller to make ing : “Choose." his appearance; this man is Jerome, who has been “I do not fight with a club,” replies Edward, shruglaying in wait in such a manner that Edward cannot ging his shoulders. go out without his knowledge; he follows him at a “And why not, my good sir ?" distance into the fields. He waits for the night to grow “Because I have not been used to such weapons !" a little darker, for he wishes neither to be seen nor in “Well, well--begin to-day. Oh, they are solid—I terrupted. At length Edward enters a secluded path, promise you that they wont break.” far remote from any habitation. The Auvergnese “You see well that you wish to take advantage of quickens his pace, and taking a cross-way, soon finds me in proposing this combat. You are used to handhimself close by Edward, whom he suddenly accosts, ling a club—I have never touched one. Will the conhaving leaped a hedge that separates them :
test be equal ?”
"And what prevents, monsieur, the petit-maitre from They carry the wounded man to his bed; they run managing a club as well as I? I am fifty years old, you for a physician. But Edward demands immediately are only thirty; it seems to me that this might equalize pen, ink and paper. He desires to profit by his little all the difference between us. Come on--come on, remaining strength, to trace a few lines; he succeeds take a club."
so far in overcoming his sufferings, when he gives the “Here are the weapons which I generally use," note to Jerome, saying in a low tone : says Edward, drawing a pair of pistols from his pocket: “Carry this to M. Guerreville-you have avenged " these will equalize all difference--for it does not re- him, and you have also saved Stephanie Dolbert ; for I quire the strength of Hercules to draw the trigger of a was this night to have introduced myself into her champistol. Ah! ha—my good fellow, these stagger you a ber, in the hope of carrying her off by force. Before little-they don't please you so well as your clubs.” dying, however, I would have wished to bid her a
“Ah! you shall see if I shrink from any weapon,” last adieu-to have seen her once" exclaims Jerome; "if I treated you as you deserve, I “I shall pass by the house of these ladies," says Je should begin by taking away your pistols and beating rome, “and will tell them what has happened to you, you with my cudgel; but I am not a coward like your- and what you desire. Oh, I doubt not that they will self, and accept your arms. Provided that I kill you come to take care of you. Adieu, sir-try to recover, and revenge M. Guerreville, how matters it with what if possible. For myself, I return to Paris, where I hope weapon ? Come--give me one of your pocket toys." to restore completely the health of M. Guerreville."
Throwing aside the clubs, Jerome does not wait for In ullering these words, Jerome takes the billet which Edward to present a pistol; he snatches one from his Edward extends to him, and leaves the inn at the mohand, and stepping back three paces, cocks and aims it, ment a physician arrives there. saying, “ Are we ready ?”
The water-carrier stops as he promised, at the bouse “It is not usual to fire at such a short distance," says of Madam Dolbert; but at the moment of entering, Edward, whose courage seems to flag under the sum- he discovered the servant of M. Delaberge, who, in mary movements of the Auvergnese.
obedience to the orders of his master, was waiting for “Oh! we must make sure--it is growing very dark, him under Stephanie's window. and I have no disposition to fire at random; but, faith, “You wait for your master in vain," says Jerome, we must despatch. I will strike the signal with my addressing himself to Dupré. “He has just received foot-the second time we will draw together.” a pistol-shot in a duel, and has but a few moments to
Jerome raises his weapon, and gives the first signal; live; go, carry this news to Madam Dolbert's–M. Edward cocks his pistol--the Auvergnese hardly raises Edward Delaberge would like to see them before be his foot to give the second and last signal, when Ed- dies." ward pulls the trigger of his pistol ; it misses fire. The valet is thunder-struck at this intelligence. Be
“Ah! mine will not miss, I hope,” cries Jerome, and fore he recovers from his surprise, Jerome is already on at the same moment he fires. Edward receives the ball the road to Paris ; for the Auvergnese is so anxious to in his breast, and falls almost upon his adversary. arrive at M. Guerreville's, that he triples his strides, and
"I think he has settled his account,” says Jerome, leaves far behind him most of the carriages, which are throwing his pistol to the ground; "but, faith, if his on the way to Paris. pistol had not missed fire, I believe that I should have In spite of his utmost diligence, it was an hour to danced for it—as he was in a deuce of a hurry to morning when he re-enters Paris. The Aurergnese draw. Monsieur, I will go and send your servant to hesitates as to his proper course: at so unseasonable carry you to the inn.”
an hour, shall he present himself at M, Guerreville's? “In Heaven's name, Jerome,” says Edward in a He might be obliged to rouse the whole house to gain feeble voice, trying to raise himself—"in Heaven's admittance; and he might disturb the repose of the name, carry me yourself. I feel that I am mortally good gentleman himself, who is hardly convalescent, wounded—I would wish for still time enough to write and to whom the doctor had recommended the most a few lines to M. Guerreville, whom I have so misera- | particular care. Jerome perceives that notwithstandbly injured. You can say at the inn that you found ing his anxiety to see M. Guerreville, he must defer bis me in this road; and I promise you I will not mention visit to the next day. that it was you with whom I have been fighting.” The water-carrier returns to his humble dwelling,
“So be it-I am very willing. But I do not fear ex- but he does not close his eyes. He has the billet, which posing myself-oh, no-but if you repent, that is the Edward Delaberge had given him for M. Guerreville; chief thing, and I cannot refuse to assist you." but, though the letter was not sealed, Jerome did not
Jerome stoops, and taking the wounded man in his suffer himself to look at it; he would have considered arms, raises him on his shoulder-thus loaded with it a crime. this heavy burden, he sets out for the village ; while At length the day dawns. Jerome counts the miEdward, with his handkerchief, tries to stay the blood nutes, the seconds. At six o'clock, he goes out and which is flowing profusely from his wound.
directs his course towards M. Guerreville's, saying to The Auvergnese at length arrived at the inn. At himself
, “If he is still asleep, no matter-I can wait sight of the traveller bathed in his own blood, every for him to wake up." one assails Jerome with questions ; Edward has still It is George who opens the door for the Aurergnese, strength enough left to answer:
and he cannot refrain from saying, “You are here some"I have been wounded in a duel-my adversary has what early, Monsieur Jerome." fed. This brave man has found me, and has had strength “True, Monsieur George--but do you see, when one enough to bring me here."
has good news to tell, I think that he cannot arrive too
early. But first, how is M. Guerreville this morn-berge in the country, near the dwelling of Madam Dol
bert, in a retired road. I began the conversation. He “ Very well. Oh, he is quite out of danger-he sat was unwilling to fight me, but I compelled him to it. up a little yesterday, and now he is in a deep sleep.” I proposed clubs-he refused; he proposed pistols—I
“He is asleepthen I will not disturb his repose. I accepted them: we fired--near enough--and his busi. will wait till he wakes—but the moment he opens his ness was finished he received a ball in his breast. If eyes, Monsieur George, you must tell me of it.” he is alive this morning, I should be much surprised to “Oh! I promise you."
hear it." Jerome seats himself a corner of the dining room. "Jerome! Jerome! is it possible? You have avenged More than an hour elapses, and M. Guerreville is still me!" enjoying a sweet and tranquil slumber.
“ Yes, sir; pardon me for having acted without your “Faith!” said Jerome, “I am glad that he sleeps so consentbut it was too much for me! I could not bear soundly; but I shall not be sorry when he wakes but it.” I will wait-I will wait-for this repose must hasten Ah, you are a brave fellow," says Jenneval, taking his recovery.”
the hand of the Auvergnese. A half-hour still elapses; some one arrives; it is Dr. 'Eh, good heavens, doctor, I have found an opporJenneval, who comes to learn how his friend had passed tunity of repaying a favor which I long since received; the night. On seeing Jerome, he offers him his hand, was it not plain that I should profit by it ?” and asks, “What are you doing here?”
“Good Jerome,” says M. Guerreville, “this Edward “I am waiting for M. Guerreville to wake up." Delaberge was indeed very guilty; but before he died, “ You wish then to see him this morning ?”
I should have wished-oh! if he had only confessed his “ Yes—for I have done what I promised myself, and wrongs !” I am come to tell him something that will give him “He has confessed them; his first words admitted pleasure. That can do him no harm, can it, doctor ?” that he had been guilty of deeply injuring you. Then “No, indeed.”
he desired to write a few lines, and he charged me over At this moment, M. Guerreville's chamber bell is and over again to give them to you. Here is his paper.” rung, and George enters a moment after to announce “Can it be possible! That Edward should confess that his master is awake.
at last-oh, give me the paper, Jerome, give it to me, “Let us go in,” says Jenneval; and he enters the quick.” bed-chamber of his friend, followed by the Auverg. “My friend,” says the doctor approaching the bed, nese, who is a good deal agitated and trembles like a "I fear that any strong excitementchild, who is on the point of some expected pleasure. “No, Jenneval, no, fear nothing-I can endure any
“Good day, my dear Jenneval,” says M. Guerre-thing--for a long time I have been prepared for the ville, extending his hand to the doctor; then perceiving worst; this suspense is the worst of torments.” Jerome, who approaches on tiptoe: “Ah! is it you, Jerome fumbled in his pocket, and drew out the pamy dear Jerome ! Come then, my friend, I am glad to per which he had put away with great care. He gives see you; I know that you have often called to inquire it to M. Guerreville, who receives it in extreme agitaafter my health, and never understood why you refused tion, and reads it, while big tears start from his eyes, to come in. Were you afraid of being troublesome? | and he exclaims in anguish : Do you think so ill of me as to believe that I should not “Oh, the wretch! I had well divined his abominable have been most glad to see you ?”
conduct.” “Oh no, my dear sir, no, it is not that at all—but do “What does he write to you, at last ?" says Jenneyou see, I had made an oath and I wished to keep it.” val. “An oath, Jerome ?"
“ I will read what he has traced in a trembling and “ Yes, sir—for when you fought, and were wounded, hardly legible hand; but first, my friend, I desire that and were likely to die, I said to myself that I was the Jerome should know the full extent of his guilt—that cause of it--seeing that all this would never have hap- he should know the whole history of his connection pened, had not I asked you to call at Madam Dolbert's.” with me. Listen, Jerome, and judge if my resentment
“ Jerome, never reproach yourself for that; it is a is just. I had a daughter whom I adored, who was great service that you have rendered me. You have the hope of my old age-she was my fortune-my hapfound for me a man whom I have been a long time pur- piness; in my daughter I had centred all my existence. suing. As to the duel, fortune has not been over fa- She was young, beautiful, intelligent. This Edward vorable this time, but at another I hope
introduced himself to my family under an assumed “It's of no use, M. Guerreville ; you will never find name. He undertook to seduce my daughter-to deit necessary to fight again with M. Edward Delaberge. lude her with the belief that I would never consent to I took it upon myself to revenge you—and thank hea- their union. The wretch! He did not wish to marry ven I have completely succeeded."
her-he only intended her dishonor! At length, he “What do you mean to say, Jerome,” exclaims M. stole her from me and all my search of them was in Guerreville, half-rising in his bed.
vain. I could not discover what had become of my “ I mean to say, that I made an oath not to see you child. During the first few days, my daughter wrote again till I had revenged you on him, who, they say, to me-she promised to return, with her husband. Ah! has been the cause of your unhappiness. Oh, for fifteen she doubtless flattered herself that her seducer would days I pursued it, and it was only with great difficulty marry her: but soon the letters ceased, and for nine that I at length found the occasion I sought. But at years I have had no intelligence of my child.” length, last evening, it presented itself. I met M. Dela “Nine years !" exclaims Jerome, who seems cvery
moment to take a deeper interest in the story; "pine they do not understand the conduct of the water-caryears! It is strange"
rier ; but this only makes them more anxious for his Without attending to the interruption of Jerome, M. return. Guerreville continues his story:
Ten minutes had not elapsed, before Jerome returns “ You may judge of my grief-of my despair. 1 breathless, covered with dust and sweat. He runs and travelled in vain in all directions-nothing—no news of seats himself by the bedside of M. Guerreville, saying: my child or her seducer—but judge of my surprise, of “Now, sir, listen to me-I can explain myself belmy indignation, in recognizing in this Edward Dela. ter." berge the man who, under the name of Daubray, had “It was about nine years ago-yes, it was in the gained admittance to my house. The wretch! he was month of October, while my poor wife was still alive; on the point of marriage. My first impulse was to de- and we had just hired an upper story of a house in St. mand the restoration of my daughter. The scoundrel Martin street. One day as I returned home, my wife pretended not to recognize me. I compelled him to said to me, 'We have a neighbor under us, a young fight; you know the issue of the encounter. To-day, woman who is very genteel, but who seems very sad in the moment of death, remorse has at length reached and unhappy-she is on the point of becoming a mohis heart. But he does not restore my daughter. Hold, ther, and her eyes tell that she does nothing but weep. here is what he has written to me. Listen, listen." I have an idea that it is a young girl whom some worth
M. Guerreville takes the paper again, and reads in a less fellow has seduced, and then abandoned.'” voice, interrupted by tears :
“Oh! my God!" exclaims M. Guerrerille, interrupt“I have been very guilty, sir, but at the moment of ing Jerome; "this poor girl—it was--perhaps» death I acknowledge my crime. It is true that I se “Wait,wait, and be of good courage, sir. I said duced your daughter, and carried her secretly to Paris; to my wife: 'Go and see this young woman, and do but I had no intention of marrying her. At the end of not be afraid to offer your services to her if she has six months, weary of her complaints, I abandoned her. need of them-neighbors should help one another.' My But what is worst of all, it was when she was on the wife desired nothing better. She went and offered aspoint of becoming a mother."
sistance to her young neighbor-to get such things as “Mother!" exclaims Jerome, striking his forehead. she wanted. The young girl was very grateful for the
“And this sacred title made no impression on my little attentions of my wife, and, in conversing with heart. Ah! I am a monster! Since that time, I know her, used constantly to say, 'As soon as my infant not what became of your daughter-I never saw her comes into the world, and I recover my strength, I shall more. To-day, retribution has overtaken me. I am return to my father-my father whom I have abanon the point of death, and I feel that I am unworthy of doned ! but who will forgive me,he is so good. Oh! pardon !"
yes, by his side I shall be no longer unhappy.'" “My poor daughter! My dear child!” cries M. “Ah, Jerome, it was she--my Pauline-my daughGuerreville, as he finished reading the note. “Oh! ter-oh, yes, it must have been she who talked thus." doubtless she died in despair; but she was about to be “My friend, cheer up," says the doctor; “so much come a mother. Oh! my God! I should not have been excitement, I fearleft utterly desolate, if you had spared me her child." “Oh, doctor, let him speak on-finish, Jerome.”
“My friend, my friend, for Heaven's sake, compose “At length, my wife consoled this young lady as yourself,” says the doctor, taking the hand of M. Guerre- well as she was able. She was convinced that she ville ; "yes, the conduct of this Delaberge was horri- wept for a wretch who had abandoned her, but whose ble, but at last Jerome has revenged you; and--but name she never once pronounced. Some days elapsed. see the agitation of this brave fellow-your story has One night the young lady was in great suffering-she made a deep impression upon him.”
was about to become a mother. I ran out to call a In fact, Jerome could not keep a moment quiet; he midwife. At length, after the most cruel pains, our walked to and fro-pronounced a few half-articulate young neighbor was delivered of a daughter-- very words-looking on M. Guerrerille in an air of the most weak and feeble, and who seemed already to suffer like compassionate interest--then, wiping away the drops her mother ; my wife never quitted the poor young of sweat that stood on his forehead, he tried in vain to lady. The day after her delivery, she was very ill, restrain the tears which were dimming his eyes. and desired to write to her father. Fearing that she
“Jerome, my friend, what ails you?” says M. Guerre should be a long time feeble, she desired to commit her ville, fixing his eye anxiously on the Auvergnese; “you child to him—to commend her daughter to his care. are shedding tears, I believe ?"
She began a letter, but she wept as she wrote. At “Ah! my good sir, do not blame me-they are so length her strength failed her-her sufferings increased, sweet-they are tears of joy, of happiness. Ah! my and a delirium that never left her ensued-for on the God! if it was possible! Oh! but I never shall be so morrowhappy; I dare not even hope it."
“O my God! my poor child! but the letter--the “Explain yourself, my friend."
letter, Jerome.” "Ah! indeed I am unable-I choke-but before "Oh! I have it. It is that I have just been in search saying a word, I must go home-find the papers, the of at home-unfortunately the young lady had not letters that will prove-oh! thank Heaven, I have pre strength to address it; otherwise, you know, I should served them all so carefully. Wait for me-wait for have carried it to her father-but hold-hold-there it me-I shall not be long."
And Jerome disappears, running like a madman. Jerome presents the unfinished letter to M. GuerreM. Guerreville and the doctor look at each other, for I ville, who had no sooner received it, than he uttered an