French fiction -- 19th century; Sand, George, 1804-1876
Palmer kissed her hand and smiled. Peace re-entered his soul.
On the next day, Laurent came and told them that he intended to go to
Switzerland to complete his cure. The climate of Italy did not agree
with him: that was the truth. The physicians advised him not to wait
until the extremely hot weather.
It was definitely decided that they should part at Florence. Thérèse
had no other plans than to go where Laurent did not go; but, when she
saw how exhausted he was by the emotion of the preceding day, she had to
promise him to pass another week at Florence, in order to prevent him
from going away before he regained the necessary strength.
That week was, perhaps, the best in Laurent's whole life. Generous,
trustful, cordial, and sincere, he had entered upon a frame of mind
which he had never before known, even during the first week of his union
with Thérèse. Affection had penetrated him, invaded him, vanquished
him. He would not leave his two friends, but drove with them to the
_Cascines_, at the hours when there was no crowd there, ate with them,
took a childish delight in going to dine with them in the country, when
Thérèse would take his arm and Palmer's alternately, tried his
strength by fencing a little with the latter, accompanied them to the
theatre, and made _Dick the great tourist_ trace the itinerary of his
trip to Switzerland. It was a very important question whether he should
go by Milan or Genoa. He decided at last on the latter route, intending
to go by Pisa and Lucca, thence along the shore, by land or water,
according as he should feel stronger or weaker after the first few days
of travelling.
The day appointed for his departure arrived. Laurent had made all his
preparations with melancholy gaiety. Brimming over with jests concerning
his costume, concerning his luggage, concerning the mongrel aspect he
would present in a certain waterproof cloak, then a great novelty, which
Palmer had compelled him to accept, and concerning the barbarous French
of an Italian servant whom Palmer had selected for him, and who was the
best fellow in the world; accepting gratefully and humbly all
Thérèse's injunctions and attentions, he had tears in his eyes, while
he laughed most heartily.
On the night preceding this last day, he had a slight attack of fever.
He jested about it. The carriage in which he was to travel by slow
stages, was at the door. It was a cool morning. Thérèse was anxious.
"Go with him as far as Spezzia," Palmer said to her. "That is where he
is to take the boat, if he doesn't stand the carriage journey well. I
will join you there the day after he has left. Some very urgent business
will detain me here twenty-four hours."
Thérèse, surprised by this suggestion, refused to go with Laurent.
"I beg you to do it," said Palmer, with much earnestness; "it is
impossible for me to go with you!"
"Very good, my dear, but it is not necessary for me to go with him."
"Yes, it is," he replied; "you must go."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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