ides, for all that he
did, her father suffered, and died while seeking to make atonement.
My father himself, were he alive, would surely forgive that man for
all he did; and I surely will not cherish hate against his memory. So
Mimi shall be mine. She is mine; we have exchanged vows. I will stay
here and die, rather than go and leave her."
"Spoken like a young fool, as you are!" said the priest. "Well, if
you will not go without her, you shall go with her; but go you must,
and to-night."
"What? can she go too, after all? O, my best Pere Michel, what can I
say?"
"Say nothing as yet, for there is one condition."
"What is that? I will agree to anything. Never mind conditions."
"You must be married before you go."
"Married!" cried Claude, in amazement.
"Yes."
"Married! How? Am I not here in a dungeon? How can she and I be
married?"
"I will tell you how presently. But first, let me tell you why. First
of all, we may all get scattered in the woods. It will be very
desirable that she should have you for her lawful lord and master, so
that you can have a right to stand by her to the last. You can do far
more for her than I can, and I do not wish to have all the
responsibility. This is one reason.
"But there is another reason, which, to me, is of greater importance.
It is this, my son: You may be captured. The worst may come to the
worst. You may--which may Heaven forbid--yet you may be put to
death. I do not think so. I hope not. I hope, indeed, that Cazeneau
may eventually fall a prey to his own machinations. But it is
necessary to take this into account. And then, my son, if such a sad
fate should indeed be yours, we must both of us think what will be
the fate of Mimi. If you are not married, her fate will be swift and
certain. She will be forced to marry this infamous miscreant, who
does not even pretend to love her, but merely wants her money. He has
already told her his intention--telling her that her father left
nothing, and that he wishes to save her from want, whereas her father
left a very large estate. Such will be her fate if she is single. But
if she is your wife, all will be different. As your widow, she will
be safe. He would have to allow her a decent time for mourning; and
in any case he would scarce be able so to defy public opinion as to
seek to marry the widow of the man whom he had killed. Besides, to
gain time would be everything; and before a year would be over, a
host of friends w
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