"Let me weep, Thérèse," said Laurent, kneeling at her feet, "let me wash away my sin with my tears; let me kneel in adoration of this saintly compassion which has survived shattered love in your heart. It does not humiliate me, as you think; I feel that I shall become worthy of it. Do not ask me to be calm, you know well enough that I cannot be; but believe that I may possibly become good. Ah! Thérèse, I know you too late! Why did you not speak to me sooner as you have just spoken? Why did you overwhelm me with your kindness and devotion, sweet Sister of Charity who cannot restore my happiness? But you are right, Thérèse; I deserved what has happened to me, and you have made me understand it at last. The lesson will benefit me, I promise you, and if I am ever able to love another woman, I shall know how to love. So I shall owe everything to you, my sister, past and future alike!" Laurent was still talking effusively when Palmer entered. Laurent threw himself on his neck, calling him his brother and his savior, and exclaimed, pointing to Thérèse: "Ah! my friend! you remember what you said to me at the Hôtel Meurice the last time we met in Paris: 'If you are not sure that you will not make her suffer, blow out your brains to-night rather than return to her'?--I ought to have done it, but I did not! And now, look at her, she is more changed than I am, poor Thérèse! She was thrown down and trampled on, and yet she came and tore me from the clutches of death, when she might well have cursed me and abandoned me!" Laurent's penitence was genuine; Palmer was deeply moved by it. As the artist worked himself up, he expressed himself with persuasive eloquence, and when Palmer was alone with Thérèse, he said to her: "Do not think, my dear, that I suffered on account of your solicitude for him, I understood perfectly! You wished to cure his body and his heart. You have won the victory. Your poor child is saved! Now what do you propose to do?" "Leave him forever," she replied, "or, at all events, not see him again for years to come. If he returns to France, I remain in Italy, and if he remains in Italy, I return to France. Have I not told you that was my resolution? It was because my mind was so thoroughly made up that I postponed the moment of parting. I knew that there must inevitably be an outbreak, and I did not wish to leave him while it lasted, if it should prove to be serious." "Have you reflected seriously, Thérèse?" said Palmer, thoughtfully. "Are you quite sure of not weakening at the last moment?" "I am perfectly sure." "That man seems to me irresistible in grief. He would extort pity from the bowels of a stone, and yet, Thérèse, if you yield to him, you are lost, and he with you. If you still love him, reflect that you can save him only by leaving him!" "I know it," replied Thérèse; "but why do you say that, my friend? Are you ill, too? Have you forgotten that my word is pledged to you?"