"... but I have been very ill since my arrival here. Some fever, due, it may be to the delicious excitement of my heart. A great depression has been the result and I now feel a most disquieting lassitude. Alas! the conclusion is sad: we must put off our marriage. It's a infinite pain to me to write this; but I ask myself when it will be possible? Will it ever be possible? No, I won't ask that. It would be terrible. I love you so much! What a happiness it is to walk again with you, in fancy, through the wood at Robinvast! If I was too audacious, you will pardon me won't you, because of the violence of my love...." There was a lot more in this style, and a less inexperienced woman than Rose would have felt the artificiality of this amorous eloquence Not a word of it, certainly, came from the heart. M. Hervart, who was not cruel, had first laid down the principle of his illness and his intention was to draw from it, graduating deceptions, all its logical conclusions. If necessary, he had said to himself, Bouret will help me. M. Hervart, who was by nature a man of the last moment and the present sensation, thought of Rose only as one thinks of a sick friend, for whose recovery one certainly hopes, but without anguish of mind. However the fatuity inevitable in the male sex assured him that he was not forgotten: he flattered himself on having left a wound in the young girl's heart which would never altogether close, and he felt what was almost remorse. To enjoy the egoist's complete peace, he would have consented to a sacrifice; he would have allowed Rose, not forgetfulness, but melancholy resignation. "Poor child!... But it had to happen. I hope she won't be too unhappy." The perusal of M. Hervart's letter left Rose sad and charmed: "Oh, how he loves me! Oh, my darling Xavier, you are ill then?" And she thought of the fiancée's cruel fate: "He is ill, and mayn't go and console him." She was turning towards her father when he rose to meet Leonor. It was in the presence of the young man and without paying heed to him that she imparted M. Hervart's news. "He is ill, he has had a touch of fever...." "Fever?" exclaimed M. Des Boys. "Yes, and afterwards he's been feeling very weak after it." "Very weak, yes. What then?" "What then, why, our marriage has to be postponed...." "Of course." "I'm very anxious." "So I should imagine." "Why shouldn't we go and see him?" "Do you think it would be any use?" "It would give him such pleasure." "Does he ask you to do it?" "No...." "Well, then." "He doesn't dare ask." "Is he as shy as all that?" This innocent question made her blush. "I'll speak of it with your mother," M. Des Boys continued. "Meanwhile, let's get on a little with our architecture." Rose had been so bored since Xavier's departure, she had been so miserable at his long silence, and now she was feeling so anxious that she accepted her father's proposal without repugnance.