The next morning, Emily ordered a fire to be prepared in the stove of the room where St. Aubert had once slept. After breakfast, she went there to carry out her father’s final instruction—to destroy the papers he had hidden.
She locked the door behind her to avoid being disturbed.
Then she opened the closet where the papers were concealed.
The moment she stepped inside, an unusual feeling of fear and respect came over her. She stood still for several moments, trembling, almost afraid to move the wooden board that covered the secret place.
In one corner of the closet stood a large armchair. Across from it was a table where she had seen her father sitting on the evening before he left for his final journey. He had looked over these very papers with such deep emotion.
Emily had spent many lonely days surrounded by sadness. Her mind had been weakened by grief, and sometimes her imagination created fears that were almost impossible to control. The quiet rooms of the château, especially during the evening shadows, had often frightened her with things that would never have troubled her in happier times.
As she looked again toward the old armchair, something terrible seemed to happen.
For a moment, she thought she saw the face of her dead father sitting there.
Emily stood frozen.
Then, overcome with fear, she rushed out of the closet.
But soon her reason returned. She blamed herself for allowing such a strange imagination to interrupt an important duty.
She opened the closet door again.
Following her father’s instructions, she quickly found the hidden board near the window. She saw the mark he had described and pressed it exactly as he had told her.
The board slid down.
Behind it was the bundle of papers, several loose sheets, and a purse filled with louis.
With trembling hands, Emily removed them and replaced the board.
She paused for a moment, then began to rise.
But when she looked up, she again thought she saw her father’s face in the chair.
The illusion was another painful result of loneliness and sorrow. It completely overcame her. She hurried from the closet and sank almost senseless into a chair.
After a short time, her reason returned. Though still shaken, she turned her attention back to the papers.
Her eyes accidentally fell upon some loose pages that were open before her. She did not even realize at first that she was breaking her father’s strict command.
Then a sentence on the page caught her attention.
The words filled her with fear and curiosity.
She quickly pushed the papers away, but she could not forget what she had read.
The mysterious meaning behind those words haunted her thoughts. She began to regret her promise to destroy the papers.
“What terrible secret could my father have hidden?” she wondered.
For a moment, she questioned whether she was truly bound to obey an order that prevented her from discovering something so important.
But that weakness quickly disappeared.
“I have given my solemn promise,” she said.
“I must obey his final command. It is not my place to question it. I must remove this temptation before it destroys my peace and leaves me with a lifetime of guilt.”
With renewed strength, Emily carried out her duty.
She placed the papers into the fire.
Her eyes remained fixed on them as they slowly burned away.
She shuddered as she remembered the dreadful sentence she had seen and realized that the chance to understand its meaning was disappearing forever.
Later, she remembered the purse.
She placed it carefully inside a cabinet, but noticed that it contained something larger than coins.
Curious, she opened it.
“His hand placed these here,” she whispered.
She kissed the coins and covered them with her tears.
“His hand… the same hand that is now only dust.”
At the bottom of the purse, she discovered a small packet.
Inside were several folded papers.
When she opened them, she found an ivory case.
Inside the case was a miniature portrait of a woman.
Emily immediately became startled.
“The same woman my father cried over,” she said.
She studied the portrait carefully but could not recognize the face.
The woman was extraordinarily beautiful. Her expression showed sweetness mixed with sorrow, and a quiet acceptance of suffering.
St. Aubert had never mentioned this picture or given any instructions about it. Therefore, Emily believed she had the right to keep it.
More than once, she remembered the way her father had spoken of the Marchioness of Villeroi. She wondered whether this portrait might be of that lady.
Yet she could not understand why her father would preserve such a picture, or why he had shown such deep sadness when looking at it.
Emily continued examining the portrait.
The woman had dark brown hair falling naturally across her forehead. Her nose had a delicate, slightly curved shape. Her lips carried a gentle but sorrowful smile. Her blue eyes looked upward with a humble and peaceful expression.
The softness of her face revealed a heart full of sensitivity.
Emily was still lost in thought when the sound of the garden gate closing disturbed her.
Looking toward the window, she saw Valancourt approaching the château.
Because of everything that had happened that morning, her emotions were unsettled, and she was not prepared to see him.
She remained in the room for a few moments to recover herself.
When she finally entered the parlor, she immediately noticed a change in Valancourt’s appearance since they had parted in Rousillon.
The sadness and exhaustion she had not noticed the previous evening were now clear.
But when he saw Emily, his face brightened with a sincere smile.
“You see,” he said, “I have taken advantage of the permission you kindly gave me—to say farewell to you, even though I had the happiness of seeing you only yesterday.”
Emily smiled faintly.
Wanting to say something, she asked whether he had been long in Gascony.
“Only a few days,” Valancourt replied.
A slight blush appeared on his face.
“After I had the misfortune of leaving the friends who made my journey through the Pyrenees so wonderful, I spent a long time wandering.”
A tear appeared in Emily’s eyes when he mentioned those memories.
Valancourt noticed it.
He regretted reminding her of painful thoughts and quickly changed the subject. He began speaking about the château and the beauty of its surroundings.
Emily was grateful for the change.
Together they walked onto the terrace.
Valancourt admired the view of the river and the distant lands of Guienne.
As he leaned against the terrace wall and watched the flowing Garonne, he said:
“A few weeks ago, I stood at the source of this magnificent river. If I had known you then, I would have regretted your absence, because that place would have suited your taste perfectly.”
He described the wild mountains where the river began, the waterfalls rushing between cliffs, and the valleys where the waters gathered before flowing toward the plains.
He spoke of the river passing through Thoulouse, then moving gently through Gascony and Guienne until it reached the Bay of Biscay.
Emily and Valancourt talked about the beautiful landscapes they had seen together among the Pyrenean mountains.
As he spoke, his voice often carried deep emotion.
Sometimes he described the scenery with the passion of an artist.
At other times, he seemed almost unaware of what he was saying, as though his memories carried him away.
The conversation reminded Emily of her father.
Every beautiful landscape Valancourt described brought St. Aubert back to her mind.
Finally, Valancourt realized that their conversation was leading too close to her sorrow and changed the subject.
But the next subject affected her just as deeply.
He admired the great plane-tree whose branches spread widely above them.
Emily remembered how often she had sat beneath that tree with her father.
“This was my dear father’s favorite tree,” she said.
“He loved sitting beneath its branches with his family around him during summer evenings.”
Valancourt understood her feelings and became silent.
If Emily had looked up, she would have seen tears in his eyes.
He stood and leaned against the terrace wall.
After a moment, he returned to his seat, then stood again.
He seemed deeply troubled.
Emily felt so overcome by sadness that she could hardly continue the conversation.
At last, Valancourt sat beside her again.
His voice trembled.
“This beautiful place… I am going to leave it. I am going to leave you—perhaps forever.”
“These moments may never come again. I cannot bear to ignore this opportunity, though I hardly dare to use it.”
“Without disrespecting the sorrow you still feel, allow me to tell you how deeply I admire your goodness.”
“Oh, that one day I might be allowed to call that admiration love.”
Emily was too moved to answer.
Valancourt looked at her face and saw her expression change. Thinking she might faint, he instinctively reached out to support her.
The movement brought Emily back to herself.
Valancourt did not mention her weakness.
Instead, he said gently:
“I will not continue this subject now. But perhaps you will allow me to hope that my words will not prevent me from seeing you again in the future.”
Emily struggled to speak.
She feared trusting her own feelings too quickly.
She admired Valancourt, and her father himself had respected him, but she knew that such a short acquaintance was not enough to decide her future happiness.
Yet the thought of losing him caused her great pain.
At last, she said:
“I must feel honored by the good opinion of anyone whom my father respected.”
Valancourt’s voice trembled with hope.
“Was I truly worthy of his respect?”
Then he quickly added:
“Forgive me. I scarcely know what I am saying. If I may hope that you do not think me unworthy, and if I may sometimes ask about your health, I could leave with much greater peace.”
After a moment of silence, Emily replied:
“I will be honest with you, because I know you will understand my situation.”
“Although I live here in my father’s house, I live alone. I have no parent whose presence could make your visits proper.”
“It is unnecessary for me to explain the difficulty.”
“I understand,” Valancourt answered sadly.
“But what comfort can I gain from being honest? I have caused you pain.”
“If only I might hope to speak of this again someday, and be allowed to make myself known to your family.”
Emily hesitated.
She felt painfully aware of her lonely position. She had no relative or friend to advise her.
Madame Cheron, who should have protected and guided her, had instead left her alone because Emily had refused to abandon La Vallée.
After a long silence, Valancourt said:
“I see that I have nothing to hope for. My fears were correct.”
“You think me unworthy of your esteem.”
“That journey, which I believed was the happiest time of my life, will now become the source of sadness for all my future days.”
His voice broke.
He suddenly stood and walked away across the terrace.
The despair on his face deeply affected Emily.
Her heart overcame her fear.
When he returned, she said softly:
“You are wrong when you say I think you unworthy of my esteem.”
“I will admit that you have possessed it for a long time, and—and…”
The sentence ended unfinished.
But her eyes revealed everything.
Valancourt’s despair instantly turned into joy.
“O Emily!” he cried.
“My own Emily—help me endure this happiness. Let me remember this moment as the most sacred of my life.”
He kissed her hand.
It was cold and trembling.
When he looked at her face, he saw how pale she had become.
Tears came to her eyes, and they relieved her emotion.
After a while, she recovered.
“Can you forgive this weakness?” she asked.
“My heart has not yet recovered from the sorrow it has suffered.”
“I cannot forgive myself,” Valancourt replied.
“I should not have spoken so much at a time when you were still suffering.”
“But now I can leave knowing that I possess your esteem.”
Then, forgetting his promise to stop, he continued speaking.
“You cannot imagine the anxious hours I have spent near you while you believed me far away.”
“I wandered near this château during the quiet hours of night when no one could see me.”
“It brought me happiness simply to know that I was near you.”
“Once, I even entered the garden and spent one of the happiest yet saddest hours of my life walking beneath what I believed to be your window.”
Emily asked how long he had been nearby.
“Several days,” he answered.
“I wished to use the permission your father gave me.”
“But every time I prepared to visit, I lost my courage.”
“I stayed in a village some distance away and wandered through this beautiful countryside with my dogs, hoping to meet you but not daring to come.”
They continued talking without noticing how quickly the time passed.
At last, Valancourt remembered that he must leave.
“I must go,” he said sadly.
“But I leave with the hope of seeing you again and being allowed to visit your family.”
“Let me hear that hope confirmed.”
“My family will be happy to receive any friend of my dear father,” Emily replied.
Valancourt kissed her hand.
Still he hesitated to leave.
Emily sat silently with her eyes lowered.
As he looked at her, he thought he would soon no longer be able to remember every detail of her beautiful face.
At that moment, a hurried step sounded behind the plane-tree.
Emily turned.
Madame Cheron appeared.
A blush rose to Emily’s face, and her whole body trembled with embarrassment.
She immediately stood to greet her aunt.
“So, niece,” Madame Cheron said, looking suspiciously at Valancourt.
“How are you?”
“But I need not ask. Your appearance tells me that you have already recovered from your loss.”
“My appearance deceives you, Madame,” Emily replied.
“My loss can never be recovered.”
“Well, well,” said Madame Cheron.
“I will not argue with you. You are exactly like your father.”
“And let me tell you, it would have been much better for him if you had possessed a different nature.”
Emily looked at her aunt with quiet dignity.
She said nothing but introduced Valancourt.
He struggled to hide his anger.
Madame Cheron returned his greeting with a cold, careless bow.
After a few moments, Valancourt left.
His farewell showed his pain at leaving Emily and leaving her alone with Madame Cheron.
“Who is that young man?” her aunt asked.
“Some admirer of yours, I suppose.”
“I believed you had more sense than to receive visits from a young man while you are in such an unprotected situation.”
“The world notices such things, and it talks.”
Emily was shocked by her aunt’s harsh words.
But Madame Cheron continued.
“You need someone to guide you.”
“I do not have much time for such responsibility, but since your poor father’s last request was that I watch over you, I shall take you under my care.”
“However, if you refuse to follow my instructions, I shall no longer concern myself with you.”
Emily remained silent.
Her grief and her awareness of her own innocence prevented her from answering.
Finally, Madame Cheron announced:
“I have come to take you with me to Thoulouse.”
“I am sorry to discover that your father died in such poor circumstances.”
“But you must come home with me.”
“I hope he has not left you dependent upon relatives.”
“I do not believe he has done so, Madame,” Emily answered calmly.
“His financial difficulties did not come from the generosity that always distinguished him.”
“The affairs of M. de Motteville may still be settled without harming his creditors.”
“And for now, I would prefer to remain at La Vallée.”
“No doubt you would,” Madame Cheron replied with a mocking smile.
“I suppose I must believe your desire for retirement is sincere.”
“I never imagined that your real reason was to receive visits from this M. La Val—whatever his name is.”
Emily could bear no more.
“It was a sincere reason, Madame.”
“And now I value the peace of this place even more.”
“If your purpose is only to add insult to the sorrow of your brother’s child, I could have lived without your visit.”
Madame Cheron became angry.
“I see I have taken on a difficult task.”
“I am certain my father never intended it to become such a burden,” Emily replied gently.
“I know my conduct under his guidance was something he approved.”
“It pains me to disobey the sister of such a father.”
“But if you find this responsibility unbearable, I can only regret that it has fallen upon you.”
“Fine words mean little,” Madame Cheron said.
“I am willing, for my brother’s sake, to overlook your recent improper behavior and see what happens in the future.”
Emily immediately asked what improper behavior she meant.
“The improper behavior of receiving visits from a lover unknown to your family,” Madame Cheron answered.
Emily explained everything.
She told her aunt how Valancourt had first met her father, how he had been wounded while helping them, how they had traveled together, and how they had accidentally met again.
She admitted that Valancourt had expressed his feelings and wished to ask permission to address her family.
“And who is this young adventurer?” Madame Cheron asked.
“What does he possess?”
“He must explain that himself,” Emily replied.
“My father knew his family, and I believe it is respectable.”
“Oh, so he is a younger son,” Madame Cheron said.
“Then naturally he is poor.”
“What a romantic story.”
“My brother admired this young man after only a few days’ acquaintance.”
“But that was just like him.”
“He always judged people by their appearance.”
“I never understood such foolish ideas. What does a person’s face have to do with their character?”
Emily tried to end the conversation and offered refreshments.
But Madame Cheron continued criticizing Valancourt.
“I am sorry to see that you have inherited many of your father’s prejudices.”
“You believe yourself in love with this young adventurer after only a few days.”
“And how wonderfully romantic the whole meeting was!”
Emily struggled to hold back her tears.
“When my conduct truly deserves such criticism, Madame, you may give it.”
“But until then, justice should restrain you.”
“I have lost my parents, and you are the only person from whom I can hope for kindness.”
“Do not make me regret their loss even more.”
Her voice broke.
She burst into tears.
She remembered her father’s tenderness, the happiness of her childhood, and the painful contrast with Madame Cheron’s cold behavior.
Her sorrow nearly overwhelmed her.
Madame Cheron was more offended by Emily’s words than touched by her grief.
Yet she still wished to take Emily with her.
Her desire for control was stronger than her reluctance.
She knew that caring for a young orphan would give her complete authority over someone who had no one else to defend her.
When they entered the château, Madame Cheron insisted that Emily prepare her belongings immediately.
She planned to leave for Thoulouse at once.
Emily begged her to wait until the next day.
After much difficulty, she finally succeeded.
The rest of the day was filled with Madame Cheron’s demands and Emily’s sadness.
When her aunt finally retired for the night, Emily walked through every room of her beloved home to say goodbye.
She felt certain that she might never return.
In her father’s study, she selected some of his favorite books to take with her.
As she wiped dust from their covers, tears fell from her eyes.
She sat in his chair and remained there until Theresa opened the door.
The old servant was surprised to find her there.
Emily gave her instructions for keeping the château ready in case she returned.
“Alas, you are leaving it,” Theresa said.
“I believe you would be happier here than where you are going.”
Emily said nothing.
But Theresa’s simple affection comforted her.
After sending Theresa away, Emily wandered through the empty rooms.
She lingered in her father’s bedroom and finally returned to her own chamber.
Looking from her window at the moonlit garden, she felt a powerful desire to say farewell to the place of her childhood.
She put on her light veil and quietly walked outside.
The peaceful garden soothed her.
The fresh air, the fragrance of flowers, and the vast beauty of the night slowly lifted her mind above her troubles.
She forgot Madame Cheron.
Her thoughts rose toward the greatness of the universe and toward the Creator who governed all things.
Her father remained in her heart, but now his memory brought comfort rather than only pain.
She walked through the groves toward the terrace.
The moon shone above the trees, spreading silver light across the garden.
The Garonne below reflected the faint glow.
Emily listened to the gentle river and the soft movement of the palm trees.
“How beautiful is this place,” she whispered.
“How often shall I remember it when I am far away.”
“What may happen before I see it again?”
“Sweet home of my childhood, why must I leave you?”
“Here I found safety and peace.”
“Now even your memories must remain behind.”
Then she looked upward again.
The same peaceful feeling returned.
She accepted that she must follow the path placed before her.
She looked once more at the plane-tree and sat beneath it for the last time.
There she remembered her parents.
She also remembered Valancourt and the feelings of tenderness, affection, and uncertainty that he had awakened within her.
Then she remembered his confession that he had often wandered near the château at night.
She suddenly wondered whether he might still be somewhere in the garden.
Afraid of meeting him at such a late hour, and afraid of giving Madame Cheron any reason for suspicion, she immediately left the tree and walked toward the house.
She looked carefully around.
The garden was silent.
Near a group of almond trees, she stopped and looked back one last time.
Then she thought she saw a figure leaving the grove and moving along a moonlit path.
The distance was too great for her to know whether it was real or only imagination.
She continued watching.
Suddenly, in the stillness of the night, she heard a sound.
Then she thought she heard footsteps nearby.
Without waiting to discover the truth, Emily hurried back to the château.
Once inside her room, she closed the window.
But as she looked again toward the garden, she thought she saw the same shadow moving between the almond trees.
She quickly stepped away from the window.
Though deeply disturbed, she finally sought comfort in sleep and escaped for a short time from the painful thoughts that filled her mind.