“Jeanne,” he said, “Monsieur Fabien accepts the two conditions, my dear.”

And I saw Jeanne come smiling toward me.

And I, who had risen trembling, I, who until then had lost my head at the mere thought of seeing her, I, who had many a time asked myself in terror what I should say on meeting her, if ever she were mine, I felt myself suddenly bold, and the words rushed to my lips to thank her, to express my joy.

My happiness, however, was evident, and I might have spared my words.

For the first half-hour all three of us talked together.

Then M. Charnot pushed back his armchair, and we two were left to ourselves.

He had taken up a newspaper, but I am pretty sure he held it upside down.  In any case he must have been reading between the lines, for he did not turn the page the whole evening.

He often cast a glance over the top of the paper, folded in four, to the corner where we were sitting, and from us his eyes travelled to a pretty miniature of Jeanne as a child, which hung over the mantelpiece.

What comparisons, what memories, what regrets, what hopes were struggling in his mind?  I know not, but I know he sighed, and had not we been there I believe he would have wept.

To me Jeanne showed herself simple as a child, wise and thoughtful as a woman.  A new feeling was growing every instant within me, of perfect rest of heart; the certainty of happiness for all my life to come.

Yes, my happiness travelled beyond the present, as I looked into the future and saw along series of days passed by her side; and while she spoke to me, tranquil, confident, and happy too, I thought I saw the great wings of my dream closing over and enfolding us.

We spoke in murmurs.  The open window let in the warm evening air and the confused roar of the city.

“I am to be your friend and counsellor?” said she.

“Always.”

“You promise that you will ask my advice in all things, and that we shall act in concert?”

“I do.”

“If this very first evening I ask you for a proof of this, you won’t be angry?”

“On the contrary.”

“Well, from what you have told me of your uncle, you seem to have accepted the second condition, of making up your quarrel, rather lightly.”

“I have only promised to do my best.”

“Yes, but my father counts upon your success.  How do you intend to act?”

“I haven’t yet considered.”

“That’s just what I foresaw, and I thought it would perhaps be a good thing if we considered it together.”

“Mademoiselle, I am listening; compose the plan of campaign, and I will criticise it.”

Jeanne clasped her hands over her knees and assumed a thoughtful look.

“Suppose you wrote to him.”

“There is every chance that he would not answer.”

“Reply paid?”

“Mademoiselle, you are laughing; you are no counsellor any longer.”