Jeanne bowed herself at these words. She no longer felt in them the selfishness of the mother. What the mistress now said was sincere and true. It was no longer her agitated and alarmed heart that inspired her; it was her conscience, calm and sincere. “Very well; I will obey you,” said the young wife, simply. “Kiss me then, mother.” She bent her brow, and Madame Desvarennes let tears of gratitude and admiration fall on it. Then Jeanne went of her own accord to the room door. “Come, Monsieur,” called she to Cayrol. The husband, grown cooler while waiting, and troubled at the length of the interview, showed his anxious face on the threshold. He saw Madame Desvarennes grave, and Jeanne collected. He dared not speak. “Cayrol, everything is explained,” said the mistress. “You have nothing to fear from him whom you suspected. He is separated from Jeanne forever, And; besides, nothing has passed between him and her who is your wife that could arouse your jealousy. I will not tell you the name of this man now. But if perchance he by some impossibility reappeared and threatened your happiness, I would myself--you understand, me?--point him out to you!” Cayrol remained thinking for, a moment; then addressing Madame Desvarennes, replied: “It is well. I have confidence in you.” Then turning toward Jeanne, he added: “Forgive me and let everything be forgotten.” The mistress’s face beamed with joy, as she followed their departing figures with her eyes, and murmured: “Brave hearts!” Then, changing her expression: “Now for the other one!” exclaimed she. And she went out on to the terrace. CHAPTER XII. THE FETE The air was mild, the night clear and bright. Cayrol’s carriage rolled rapidly along the broad avenue of the park shadowed by tall trees, the lanterns throwing, as they passed, their quivering light on the thickets. The rumbling carriages took the last guests to the railway station. It was past midnight. A nightingale began singing his song of love to the stars. Madame Desvarennes mechanically stopped to listen. A sense of sorrow came over this mother who was a prey to the most cruel mental anguish. She thought that she could have been very happy on that splendid night, if her heart had been full of quietude and serenity. Her two daughters were married; her last task was accomplished. She ought to have nothing to do but enjoy life after her own fashioning, and be calm and satisfied. Instead of that, here were fear and dissimulation taking possession of her mind; and an ardent, pitiless struggle beginning against the man who had deceived her daughter and lied to her. The bark which carried her fortune, on reaching port, had caught fire, and it was necessary to begin laboring again amid cares and pains.