Luiza paused, and said hastily, as if impatient to put an end to the interview,—
“I understand you. Thanks; it is not necessary. I do not feel well; let us not prolong this. Good-by.”
“As I have already told you, I will be back in three weeks.”
“Very well; we shall see each other then.”
He drew her towards him and kissed her on the mouth; her lips were cold and unresponsive. This indifference wounded his vanity. He pressed her to his heart, and said in low and passionate accents,—
“Will you not give me a kiss?”
A sudden gleam shot from Luiza’s eyes; she kissed him hastily, then, drawing back,—
“Good-by,” she again repeated.
Bazilio looked at her for a moment, and sighed.
“Good-by,” he responded. And turning back again at the door, he added in a melancholy voice, “At least, write to me; you know my address,—Rue St. Florentin, 22.”