“And will be given again to the same cause!” I cried. “I warn you, Mademoiselle, that I shall not submit so tamely to this decree of separation.”
She pressed my fingers gently and withdrew her hand.
“Come,” she said, “I must return,” and she went on across the little court and to the gate, which still hung open as we had left it. “Adieu, Monsieur,” she added, and held out her hand again.
I raised it to my lips and kissed it.
“It is not adieu,” I said. “I will not have it so. I shall see you again many times,” but as I looked into her eyes I felt my certainty slipping from me, and with it my self-control.
Perhaps she read my thought, for she drew her hand away and made ready to close the gate.
“Adieu, Monsieur,” she repeated, and I saw that her eyes were bright with tears.
I sprang to her and caught both her hands in mine.
“But, Claire,” I cried, “at least, tell me that you are sorry; tell me that you care; tell me that you would not have it so!”
She looked up into my face and her lips were quivering.