ess, by
human chances and fatalities,--they will understand the poor girl's
tortures. She wept as she walked in the garden, now so narrow to her,
as indeed the court, the house, the town all seemed. She launched in
thought upon the wide expanse of the ocean he was about to traverse.
At last the eve of his departure came. That morning, in the absence
of Grandet and of Nanon, the precious case which contained the two
portraits was solemnly installed in the only drawer of the old cabinet
which could be locked, where the now empty velvet purse was lying. This
deposit was not made without a goodly number of tears and kisses. When
Eugenie placed the key within her bosom she had no courage to forbid the
kiss with which Charles sealed the act.

"It shall never leave that place, my friend," she said.

"Then my heart will be always there."

"Ah! Charles, it is not right," she said, as though she blamed him.

"Are we not married?" he said. "I have thy promise,--then take mine."

"Thine; I am thine forever!" they each said, repeating the words twice
over.

No promise made upon this earth was ever purer. The innocent sincerity
of Eugenie had sanctified for a moment the young man's love.

On the morrow the breakfast was sad. Nanon herself, in spite of the
gold-embroidered robe and the Jeannette cross bestowed by Charles, had
tears in her eyes.

"The poor dear monsieur who is going on the seas--oh, may God guide
him!"

At half-past ten the whole family started to escort Charles to the
diligence for Nantes. Nanon let loose the dog, locked the door, and
insisted on carrying the young man's carpet-bag. All the tradesmen in
the tortuous old street were on the sill of their shop-doors to watch
the procession, which was joined in the market-place by Maitre Cruchot.

"Eugenie, be sure you don't cry," said her mother.

"Nephew," said Grandet, in the doorway of the inn from which the coach
started, kissing Charles on both cheeks, "depart poor, return rich;
you will find the honor of your father safe. I answer for that myself,
I--Grandet; for it will only depend on you to--"

"Ah! my uncle, you soften the bitterness of my departure. Is it not the
best gift that you could make me?"

Not understanding his uncle's words which he had thus interrupted,
Charles shed tears of gratitude upon the tanned cheeks of the old miser,
while Eugenie pressed the hand of her cousin and that of her father with
all her strength. The notary smiled, a