'But why do you speak to me of Monsieur Luc?' she said. 'Do you know him then? Have you something to say to me about him?' Monsieur Jérôme hesitated, doubtless because he could not find the words he wished; then with childish impatience he repeated: 'Monsieur Luc!' 'He used to be my best friend,' resumed Suzanne, 'but for long years now he has ceased coming here.' Monsieur Jérôme quickly nodded his head, and then, as if his tongue were gradually acquiring the power of speech, he said: 'I know, I know--I wish him to come.' 'You wish Monsieur Luc to come to see you--you wish to speak to him, grandfather?' 'Yes, yes, it is that. Let him come at once--I will speak to him.' The surprise and the vague fright that possessed Suzanne were now increasing. What could Monsieur Jérôme wish to say to Luc? There were such painful possibilities, that for a moment she tried to avoid granting the old man's request, as if indeed she imagined him to be delirious. But he was in full possession of his senses, and entreated her with increasing fervour, all the strength indeed remaining in his poor infirm frame. And at this Suzanne felt profoundly disturbed, asking herself if it would not be wrong of her to refuse the dying man's request for that interview, although she shuddered at the thought of the dimly threatening things which might result from it. 'Cannot you say what you wish to me, grandfather?' she ultimately asked. 'No, no--to Monsieur Luc. I will speak to him at once--oh, at once!' 'Very well, then, grandfather, I will write to him, and I hope that he will come.' When Suzanne sat down to write, however, her hand trembled. She penned only two lines: 'My friend, I have need of you, come at once.' Nevertheless she was twice compelled to pause, for she lacked strength to trace even those few words, so painful were the memories that they aroused within her--memories of her lost life and of the happiness beside which she had passed, and which she would never know. At last, however, the note was written, and it was scarcely ten in the morning when one of the servants, a lad, set out to take it to La Crêcherie.