But they went on slowly until the top landing was just above their heads. Both knew that the top landing must bring the termination of all.
She took the door-key in her hand, went a little ahead of him and fitted it noiselessly into the lock. It turned. The end was at hand. She looked towards him and attempted a smile. He put the match-box on the window ledge and drew her within his arms.
“It is for the first and the last time,” he said hoarsely, and then he kissed her furiously, passionately,—twice, thrice, and once again. “C’est comme ça, l’amour!” he whispered; “and because you know nothing of it, you let it go from you.”
Then he put his hand to his throat as if strangling, and, opening the door, stepped aside.
“Good-bye,” he murmured, as she passed within. “Bon voyage!”
The door closed between them.
She went to her room and found Ottillie asleep upon the sofa.
She crossed to the window, opened it softly and leaned out; after a little she heard the door beneath open and close, and then his shadow fell beneath the electric light.
Then he was gone!