Through the lift-up window in the roof, which was
wide open, the freshness of the evening fell upon the burning couch.
The couple remained some time in this wretched little room, as though
at the bottom of a hole. All at once, Therese heard a clock in the
neighbourhood strike ten. She felt as if she would have liked to have
been deaf. Nevertheless, she looked for her hat which she fastened to
her hair with a long pin, and then seating herself, slowly murmured:
"I must go."
Laurent fell on his knees before her, and took her hands.
"Good-bye, till we see each other again," said she, without moving.
"No, not till we see each other again!" he exclaimed, "that is too
indefinite. When will you come again?"
She looked him full in the face.
"Do you wish me to be frank with you?" she inquired. "Well, then, to
tell you the truth, I think I shall come no more. I have no pretext, and
I cannot invent one."
"Then we must say farewell," he remarked.
"No, I will not do that!" she answered.
She pronounced these words in terrified anger. Then she added more
gently, without knowing what she was saying, and without moving from her
chair:
"I am going."
Laurent reflected.
Pages:
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81