"That is out of the question, Gaston; so spare yourself the trouble of the attempt."
"But the journey will be use—use—useless," persisted M. de Bois.
"How can you know that?" inquired Maurice, quickly.
"I think so; it is my impression, my conviction."
"It is not mine, and nothing can prevent my making the experiment," answered Maurice, decidedly.
Gaston looked as thoroughly vexed as though he were responsible for the rash actions of his friend; but he knew that Maurice was inflexible where Madeleine was concerned, and that all entreaties would be thrown away unless he could sustain them by some potent reason; and that it was not in his power to proffer. He made no further opposition, but remained fidgeting about the room in the most distracting manner, hindering the preparations of Maurice, stumbling over articles scattered on the floor, now and then stammering out a broken, unintelligible phrase, and altogether seeming wretchedly uncomfortable, yet unwilling to leave until he saw the obstinate traveller in the fiacre which drove him to the railway station.