You were to be the wife of Victor Le Roy.
You are his widow, Jacqueline. For you do not think that he lives any
longer?"
"He lives, and he is free! If he has sinned, like Peter even, he weeps
bitterly."
"Like Peter? Peter denied his Lord. But he did weep, as you
say,--bitterly. Peter confessed again."
"And none served the Master with truer heart or greater courage
afterward. Victor, you remember."
"Even so,--oh, Jacqueline!"
"Victor! Victor! it was only Judas who hanged himself."
"Come, Jacqueline!"
She arose and went with him. At dawn they were married. Love did lead
and save them.
I see two youthful students studying one page. I see two loving spirits
walking through thick darkness. Along the horizon flicker the promises
of day. They say, "O Holy Ghost, hast thou forsaken thine own temples?"
Aloud they cry to God.
I see them wandering among Domremy woods and meadows,--around the castle
of Picardy,--talking of Joan. I see them resting by the graves they find
in two ancient villages. I see them walk in sunny places; they are not
called to toil; they may gather all the blossoms that delight their
eyes. Their love grows beyond childhood,--does not die before it comes
to love's best estate. Happy bride and bridegroom! But I see them as
through a cloud whose fair hues are transient.
From the meadow-lands and the vineyards and the dark forests of the
mountains, from study and from rest, I see them move with solemn faces
and calm steps.
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