"You will be desolate for a time, Victorine, when I shall have left
you," said he.
She answered him only by a look, but that look was so full of misery--of
misery, blended with inexpressible love--that no one seeing her, could
have doubted that she would indeed be desolate when he was gone.
"We have loved each other too well to part easily," he continued, "and,
for a time, the world will all be a weary blank to you. May God, who
knows how to pour a balm into every wound, which in his mercy He
inflicts, grant that that time may not be long! Listen to me patiently,
love. It is a strong sense of duty which makes me pain you; my memory
will always be dear to you; but do not let a vain, a foolish, a wicked
regret counteract the purpose for which God has placed you here. You are
very young, dearest, you have, probably, yet many years to live; and it
would multiply my grief at leaving you tenfold, if I thought that your
hopes of happiness in this world were to be buried in the grave with me.
No, love, bear with me," he said, for she tried to stop him.
Pages:
691
692
693
694
695
696
697
698
699
700
701
702
703
704
705
706
707
708
709
710
711
712
713
714
715