"Ah! dear heart, forgive me; I doubted both of us. It would be impossible
for either of us to sleep unless you forgive me. Well, let the others
hold us in derision and contempt if they choose. Let us love and live as
nature tells us, for you are right: therein lies true wisdom and true
courage."



V

MATHIEU rose noiselessly from his little folding iron bedstead beside the
large one of mahogany, on which Marianne lay alone. He looked at her, and
saw that she was awake and smiling.

"What! you are not asleep?" said he. "I hardly dared to stir for fear of
waking you. It is nearly nine o'clock, you know."

It was Sunday morning. January had come round, and they were in Paris.
During the first fortnight in December the weather had proved frightful
at Chantebled, icy rains being followed by snow and terrible cold. This
rigorous temperature, coupled with the circumstance that Marianne was
again expecting to become a mother, had finally induced Mathieu to accept
Beauchene's amiable offer to place at his disposal the little pavilion in
the Rue de la Federation, where the founder of the works had lived before
building the superb house on the quay. An old foreman who had occupied
this pavilion, which still contained the simple furniture of former days,
had lately died. And the young folks, desiring to be near their friend,
worthy Dr. Boutan, had lived there for a month now, and did not intend to
return to Chantebled until the first fine days in April.