"Not one word?"
"Not one word from the day we began to work."
"Florence, you must be exaggerating. Such self-restraint is an impossibility."
"I promised to tell you the truth, and I am telling it. We have never spoken a word to each other during these four years. When any important matter or any question affecting our interests was to be decided, we wrote to each other; that is all. I must also admit that we invented a way to communicate with each other through the wall between our rooms.
It was a very brief telegraphic code, however. Only extensive enough to permit us to say to each other, "Good night, Michel"--"Good night, Florence;" and in the morning, "Good morning, Michel"--"Good morning, Florence;" or, "It is time to start," or now and then: "Courage, Michel"--"Courage, Florence; let us think of paradise, and endure purgatory as cheerfully as possible!" But even this mode of correspondence had to be strictly tabooed now and then; for would you believe it? Michel sometimes wasted so much time in tapping upon the wall with the handle of his pocket-knife that I was obliged to silence the hot-headed creature in the most peremptory manner."
"And did this meagre correspondence satisfy you?"
"Perfectly. Did we not have a life in common, in spite of the wall that separated us? Were not our minds concentrated upon the same aim, and was not our pursuance of this aim exactly the same thing as always thinking of each other? Besides, we saw each other every morning and evening. As we were not lovers, that sufficed. If we had been, a single look might have been enough to destroy all our good resolutions. Well, a fortnight ago, our object was accomplished. In four years we had acc.u.mulated forty-two thousand eight hundred francs! We might have "retired," as merchants say, several months earlier; but we said, or, rather, we wrote to each other, "It is not well for persons to crave any more than is required to provide them with the necessaries of life; still, we ought to have enough to supply the needs of any poor and hungry stranger who may knock at our door. Nothing gives greater peace to the soul than the consciousness of having always been kind and humane." This being the case, we prolonged our purgatory a little. And now, Valentine, confess that there is nothing like well-directed indolence to imbue persons with energy, courage, and virtue."
"Farewell, Florence," said Madame d"Infreville, in a voice husky with tears, and throwing herself in her friend"s arms, "farewell for ever!"
"What do you mean, Valentine?"
"A vague hope impelled me to come here,--a foolish, senseless hope. Once more, farewell! Be happy with Michel. Heaven created you for each other, and your happiness has been n.o.bly earned."
The garden gate closed noisily.
"Madame, madame," cried the old nurse, hastening towards them with an unsealed letter, which she handed to Valentine, "the gentleman that remained in the carriage told me to give this to you at once. He came from over there," added the old woman, pointing to the same clump of shrubbery in which Valentine had fancied that she heard a suspicious sound, some time before.
Florence watched her friend with great surprise, as Valentine opened the missive, which contained another note, and read the following words, hastily scrawled in pencil:
"Give the enclosed to Florence, and rejoin me immediately. There is no hope. Let us depart at once."
Involuntarily Madame d"Infreville turned as if to comply with the request.
"Where are you going, Valentine?" cried Florence, hastily seizing her friend by the hand.
"Wait for me a moment," replied Madame d"Infreville, pressing her friend"s hands convulsively, "wait for me, and read this."
Then giving the note to Florence, she darted away, while her friend, more and more astonished as she perceived that the writing was her husband"s, read these lines:
"Concealed behind a clump of shrubbery, I have heard all. A vague hope brought me here, and I confess that, when I saw this hope blighted, my first thought was of revenge. But I renounce both the hope and the revenge. Be happy, Florence! I can feel for you henceforth only esteem and respect.
"My only regret is that I am unable to give you your entire liberty. The law prevents that, so you must resign yourself to bearing my name.
"Once more farewell, Florence; you will never see me again, but, from this day on, remember me as your most sincere and devoted friend,
A. DE LUCEVAL."
Madame de Luceval was deeply touched by this letter, which she had scarcely finished when she heard the sound of carriage wheels becoming fainter and fainter in the distance.
Florence felt that Valentine would never return, and when, just before nightfall, Michel came in search of Madame de Luceval, she handed him her husband"s letter.
Michel, like Florence, was deeply touched by this letter, but after a little he remarked, with a smile:
"Fortunately, Valentine is free."
CHAPTER XX.
CONCLUSION.
About two years after these events, the following paragraphs appeared in a number of the journals of the times:
"A correspondent, writing from Symarkellil, says that the ascent of one of the highest peaks of the Caucasus was made late in May by two intrepid French tourists, M. and Madame M----. The latter, a tall and remarkably handsome brunette, donned male attire and shared all the dangers of this dangerous expedition. The guides could not say enough in praise of her courage, coolness, and gaiety. It is said that these two untiring travellers afterwards started across the steppes to Saint Petersburg in order to reach there in time to join Captain Moradoff"s expedition to the North Pole. The numerous letters from influential persons which they took with them to the court of Russia lead them to hope that they will obtain the favour they ask, and that they will be allowed to take part in this perilous expedition to the polar seas."
"A correspondent, writing from Hyeres under date of December 29th, says:
"A singular instance of extraordinary vegetation lately presented itself in this neighbourhood. Rumours of an orange-tree in full bloom at this season of the year were current, and as we seemed to doubt these reports, a friend, to convince us, took us to a small country-seat on the coast a few miles from here. There, in a quincunx of orange-trees, we saw, with our own eyes, a superb tree literally covered with buds and blossoms which perfumed the air for hundreds of yards around. We were more than repaid for the trouble of our journey by the sight of this freak of nature, and the cordial welcome given us by the master and mistress of the house,--M. and Madame Michel."
THE END.