After dinner he returned to the town to take the road to Pluviosilla.
His friends proposed to accompany him, but he refused their offer. He wished to be alone, alone, to meditate upon the thought which for hours had pursued him.
She loves me—he was thinking as he entered the town.—She loves me! Poor child! I have been cruel to her.—I ought to forgive her.—Why not? I will be generous. I will forgive all.
The energetic resolutions of the young man became a sentiment of tender compassion. His dignity and pride, of which he gave such grand examples a month before, yielded now to the impulses of his heart. He could resist no longer. Carmen triumphed; love triumphed.
I will speak with her; yes, I will speak with her; I will tell her that I love her with all my soul; that I cannot forget her; that I cannot live without her! I will tell her that I pardon; that we shall again be happy. Poor child! She is pale, ill——. I do not wish to