She pressed my hand in hers, and kissed my forehead.
"Yes, it must be," she murmured, "it must be."
"It must be," I repeated to myself. I arose.
On the table there remained only one piece of paper that Brigitte was examining. She picked it up, then allowed it to drop to the floor.
"Is that all?" I asked.
"Yes, that is all."
When I ordered the horses I had no idea that we would really go, I wished merely to make a trial, but circumstances bid fair to force me to carry my plans farther than I at first intended. I opened the door.
"It must be!" I said to myself. "It must be!" I repeated aloud.
"What do you mean by that, Brigitte? What is there in those words that I do not understand? Explain yourself, or I will not go. Why must you love me?"
She fell on the sofa and wrung her hands in grief.