The affectionate brother had replaced the fiery lover, and his illness, in calming his ardent passion, had contributed not a little to make the transition a less difficult one than it could possibly have been otherwise.

Isabelle was now for him really and only the Comtesse de Lineuil, his dear sister.
He nodded in a friendly way to Vidalinc, and disengaged his hand for a moment from Isabelle's to give it to him--it was all that the doctor would allow--but his eyes were eloquent enough to make up for his enforced silence.
In the course of a few weeks, Vallombreuse, who had gained strength rapidly, was able to leave his bed and recline upon a lounge near the open window; so as to enjoy the mild, delightful air of spring, that brought colour to his cheeks and light to his eyes.

Isabelle was often with him, and read aloud for hours together to entertain him; as Maitre Laurent's orders were strict that he should not talk, even yet, any more than was actually necessary.

One day, when Isabelle had finished a chapter in the volume from which she was reading to him, and was about to begin another, he interrupted her, and said, "My dear sister, that book is certainly very amusing, and the author a man of remarkable wit and talent; but I must confess that I prefer your charming conversation to your delightful reading.

Do you know, I would not have believed it possible to gain so much, in losing all hope of what I desired more ardently than I had ever done anything in my whole life before.