"Is it possible," murmured he at length, "what you ask of me? What! is
it you who talk to me of forgetting? Do you feel the power to forget?
Do you not see that I love you a thousand times more than you love--"
He stopped, unable to pronounce the name of Commarin; and then, with an
effort he added: "And I shall love you always."
They had left the arbour, and were now standing not far from the steps
leading to the house.
"And now, mademoiselle," resumed M. Daburon, "permit me to say, adieu!
You will see me again but seldom. I shall only return often enough to
avoid the appearance of a rupture."
His voice trembled, so that it was with difficulty he made it distinct.
"Whatever may happen," he added, "remember that there is one unfortunate
being in the world who belongs to you absolutely. If ever you have need
of a friend's devotion, come to me, come to your friend. Now it is over
. . . I have courage. Claire, mademoiselle, for the last time, adieu!"
She was but little less moved than he was. Instinctively she approached
him, and for the first and last time he touched lightly with his cold
lips the forehead of her he loved so well.
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