"I asked you to come back with me so that I could give you M. Derize's
note-books. I thank you for having given them to me. I have kept them a
very long time, but you did not ask me for them."
He bowed without speaking.
"And here is the letter which had been sent to him and which I kept
without the right to do so. You will return it to him."
Philippe, dumbfounded, refused the envelope she held out to him.
"This telegram belongs to you. It is your weapon. You cannot give up the
possession of it."
"I have no further need of it."
"But, Madame...."
"I am giving up my petition for separation. Albert may do as he likes."
For the first time in this conversation she used her husband's Christian
name. It was the only indication of her emotion.
"Ah!" murmured Philippe, who did not expect this new development. "Does
Albert know?"
"I have just told my lawyer. His lawyer will tell him about it in turn."
"You will give me permission to tell it to him?"
"Certainly."
After that there was nothing left for him to do but to go. Standing in
front of her he did not know how to show her his respect. In the course
of this unlooked-for interview, he had constantly looked for an
opportunity to ask her pardon. To the humiliation of his recollections
was now added that of his inadequacy in a situation in which he most
desired to use the resources of his mind. But there was another surprise
in store for him. Elizabeth offered him her hand, and with a trembling
voice, said:
"I also wished to tell you, Monsieur, that I have forgotten your last
words at Uriage. Give me your hand. You had misjudged me; it was my
fault. A woman alone has to be so careful. Remain Albert's friend, and
be a little friendly to me, will you? We shall meet seldom. I only
remember the truths I heard from you one day, which have made me
understand one's own contribution to one's unhappiness.--"
Philippe, bending down, kissed the fingers which she gently drew away.
"Madame," he repeated. "Madame."
And when he could master his emotion, he said:
"I shall be worthy of your pardon. Ah, if you only knew how I have
reproached myself! Now I feel so much younger, so much lighter. Ah,
one's own contempt is hard to bear."
"Sh!" she said, her finger on her lips as a signal to him not to
continue the subject, never to speak of it again.
He bowed.
"Good-by, Madame. You will never have a more devoted friend."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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