Shall we speak of the happiness of Emile and Gilberte? Happiness cannot be described, and even lovers themselves lack words with which to depict it. When it was night, Monsieur and Madame de Cardonnet took their leave, graciously authorizing Emile to escort his fiancée to Châteaubrun, on condition that he should keep his father's cabriolet, and not ride again that day. Monsieur Antoine, absorbed in a joyful conversation with his friend Jean, wandered about the park, and Janille, beginning to tire of playing the lady, satisfied her craving for action by assisting Martin to put everything in order. Thereupon, Monsieur de Boisguilbault took Emile's arm and Gilberte's and led them to the cliff where he had first opened his heart to his young friend. "My children," he said to them, "I have made you rich, because it was necessary to do it in order to overcome the obstacles that separated you, and because it was the only means of making you happy. My will was made a long while ago, but last night I rewrote it. My purpose remains what it was: I believe that Emile knows it and that Gilberte will respect it. I have determined that, in the future, this great estate shall be used to found a _commune_, and in my first will I tried to provide a plan for it, and to lay its foundations. But the plan might well be defective and the foundations unsubstantial; I do not regret my work, because I have always felt that it was weak and that I am of all men on earth the man least capable of planning and carrying out. Providence came to my aid by sending Emile to me to take my place in realizing my plans, and I had recently made him my sole trustee and the executor of my will. But such a disposition of my property would have made it impossible to obtain Monsieur Cardonnet's consent, and I destroyed it when I determined that you two should marry. Official documents have not the value commonly attributed to them, and the law has never found the means of fettering the conscience. That is why I am much more tranquil in my mind when I simply tell you what I wish and receive your promise, than I should be if I bound you by chains so fragile as those of the provisions of a will. Do not answer, my children! I know your thoughts, I know your hearts. You have been subjected to the harshest of all tests, that of abandoning the idea of being united or of abjuring your opinions; you have come out of it triumphantly; I rely absolutely upon you and I leave the future in your hands. It is your intention to put your opinions in practice, Emile, and I furnish you with the instruments; but that does not mean that you have the ability as yet. For that you need knowledge of social science, and that is the result of long-continued labor to which you will apply yourself with the aid of the forces which your generation, not mine, will develop more or less successfully, as God wills. It may be that you will not see my plans come to maturity, my children; perhaps your