He took a few steps in the room, then looking at his watch said: “Almost one o’clock; my love, I must leave you.”
“What! you are not going to remain?”
“No, to my great regret; my mother is dangerously ill.”
He unfolded and counted out on the table the bank notes he had received from old Tabaret.
“My little Juliette,” said he, “here are not eight thousand francs, but ten thousand. You will not see me again for a few days.”
“Are you leaving Paris, then?”
“No; but my entire time will be absorbed by an affair of immense importance to myself. If I succeed in my undertaking, my dear, our future happiness is assured, and you will then see whether I love you!”
“Oh, my dear Noel, tell me what it is.”
“I cannot now.”
“Tell me I beseech you,” pleaded the young woman, hanging round his neck, raising herself upon the tips of her toes to press her lips to his. The advocate embraced her; and his resolution seemed to waver.