“No.”
“They told you, then, that M. d’Épinay consented to our all living together?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you still vexed and grieved?” The old man’s eyes beamed with an expression of gentle affection.
“Yes, I understand,” said Valentine; “it is because you love me.” The old man assented.
“And you are afraid I shall be unhappy?”
“Yes.”
“You do not like M. Franz?” The eyes repeated several times, “No, no, no.”
“Then you are vexed with the engagement?”
“Yes.”
“Well, listen,” said Valentine, throwing herself on her knees, and putting her arm round her grandfather’s neck, “I am vexed, too, for I do not love M. Franz d’Épinay.”
An expression of intense joy illumined the old man’s eyes.
“When I wished to retire into a convent, you remember how angry you were with me?” A tear trembled in the eye of the invalid. “Well,” continued Valentine, “the reason of my proposing it was that I might escape this hateful marriage, which drives me to despair.” Noirtier’s breathing came thick and short.
“Then the idea of this marriage really grieves you too? Ah, if you could but help me—if we could both together defeat their plan! But you are unable to oppose them,—you, whose mind is so quick, and whose will is so firm are nevertheless, as weak and unequal to the contest as I am myself. Alas, you, who would have been such a powerful protector to me in the days of your health and strength, can now only sympathize in my joys and sorrows, without being able to take any active part in them. However, this is much, and calls for gratitude and Heaven has not taken away all my blessings when it leaves me your sympathy and kindness.”