Overwhelmed with grief and confusion, Mother Bunch had not dared to look on Agricola; but his words expressed so deep a conviction, the tones of his voice revealed so tender an emotion, that the poor creature felt her shame gradually diminish, particularly when Agricola added, with rising animation: "Be satisfied, my sweet, my noble Magdalen; I will be worthy of this love.Believe me, it shall yet cause you as much happiness as it has occasioned tears.Why should this love be a motive for estrangement, confusion, fear? For what is love, in the sense in which it is held by your generous heart? Is it not a continual exchange of devotion, tenderness, esteem, of mutual and blind confidence?--Why, Magdalen! we may have all this for one another--devotion, tenderness, confidence--even more than in times past; for, on a thousand occasions, your secret inspired you with fear and suspicion--while, for the future, on the contrary, you will see me take such delight in the place I fill in your good and valiant heart, that you will be happy in the happiness you bestow.What I have just said may seem very selfish and conceited; so much the worse! I do not know how to lie."
The longer the smith spoke, the less troubled became Mother Bunch.What she had above all feared in the discovery of her secret was to see it received with raillery, contempt, or humiliating compassion; far from this, joy and happiness were distinctly visible on the manly and honest face of Agricola.The hunchback knew him incapable of deception;
therefore she exclaimed, this time without shame or confusion, but rather with a sort of pride.
"Every sincere and pure passion is so far good and con soling as to end by deserving interest and sympathy, when it has triumphed over its first excess! It is alike honorable to the heart which feels and that which inspires it!--Thanks to you, Agricola--thanks to the kind words, which have raised me in my own esteem--I feel that, instead of blushing, I ought to be proud of this love.My benefactress is right--you are right:
why should I be ashamed of it? Is it not a true and sacred love? To be near you, to love you, to tell you so, to prove it by constant devotion, what did I ever desire more? And yet shame and fear, joined with that dizziness of the brain which extreme misery produces, drove me to suicide!--But then some allowance must be made for the suspicions of a poor creature, who has been the subject of ridicule from her cradle.So my secret was to die with me, unless some unforeseen accident should reveal it to you; and, in that case, you are right--sure of myself, sure of you, I ought to have feared nothing.But I may claim some indulgence;
mistrust, cruel mistrust of one's self makes one doubt others also.Let us forget all that.Agricola, my generous brother, I will say to you, as you said to me just now, `Look at me; you know my countenance cannot lie.
Look at me: see if I shun your gaze; see if, ever in my life, I looked so happy'--and yet, even now, I was about to die!"
She spoke the truth.Agricola himself could not have hoped so prompt an effect from his words.In spite of the deep traces which misery, grief, and sickness had imprinted on the girl's features, they now shone with radiant happiness and serenity, whilst her blue eyes, gentle and pure as her soul, were fixed, without embarrassment, on those of Agricola.
"Oh! thanks, thanks!" cried the smith, in a rapture of delight: "when I see you so calm, and so happy, Magdalen, I am indeed grateful."
"Yes, I am calm, I am happy," replied she; "and happy I shall be, for I can now tell you my most secret thoughts.Yes, happy; for this day, which began so fatally, ends like a divine dream.Far from being afraid, I now look at you with hope and joy.I have again found my generous benefactress, and I am tranquil as to the fate of my poor sister.Oh!
shall we not soon see her? I should like her to take part in this happiness."
She seemed so happy, that the smith did not dare to inform her of the death of Cephyse, and reserved himself to communicate the same at a more fitting opportunity.Therefore he answered: "Cephyse, being the stronger, has been the more shaken; it will not be prudent, I am told, to see her to-day."
"I will wait then.I can repress my impatience, I have so much to say to you."
"Dear, gentle Magdalen!"
"Oh, my friend!" cried the girl, interrupting Agricola, with tears of joy: "I cannot tell you what I feel, when I hear you call me Magdalen.
It is so sweet, so soothing, that my heart expands with delight."
"Poor girl! how dreadfully she must have suffered!" cried the smith, with inexpressible emotion, "when she displays so much happiness, so much gratitude, at being called by her own poor name!"
"But consider, my friend; that word in your mouth contains a new life for me.If you only knew what hopes, what pleasures I can now see gleaming in the future! If you knew all the cherished longings of my tenderness!
Your wife, the charming Angela, with her angel face and angel-soul--oh!
in my turn, I can say to, you, `Look at me, and see how sweet that name is to my lips and heart!' Yes, your charming, your good Angela will call me Magdalen--and your children, Agricola, your children!--dear little creatures!--to them also I shall be Magdalen--their good Magdalen--and the love I shall bear them will make them mine, as well as their mother's--and I shall have my part in every maternal care--and they will belong to us three; will they not, Agricola?--Oh! let me, let me weep!