Max would never have allowed you to marry old Rouget. And," he added
in her ear, "if you have children, you can revenge Max, for that will
disinherit the Bridaus."
Two months after the fatal duel in February, 1823, the sick woman,
urged by those about her, and implored by Rouget, consented to receive
Philippe, the sight of whose scars made her weep, but whose softened
and affectionate manner calmed her. By Philippe's wish they were left
alone together.
"My dear child," said the soldier. "It is I, who, from the start, have
advised your marriage with my uncle; if you consent, it will take
place as soon as you are quite recovered."
"So they tell me," she replied.
"Circumstances have compelled me to give you pain, it is natural
therefore that I should wish to do you all the good I can. Wealth,
respect, and a family position are worth more than what you have lost.
You wouldn't have been that fellow's wife long after my uncle's death,
for I happen to know, through friends of his, that he intended to get
rid of you. Come, my dear, let us understand each other, and live
happily. You shall be my aunt, and nothing more than my aunt. You will
take care that my uncle does not forget me in his will; on my side,
you shall see how well I will have you treated in the marriage
contract. Keep calm, think it over, and we will talk of it later. All
sensible people, indeed the whole town, urge you to put an end to your
illegal position; no one will blame you for receiving me.
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