“I must go.”
Laurent fell on his knees before her, and took her hands.
“Good-bye, till we see each other again,” said she, without moving.
“No, not till we see each other again!” he exclaimed, “that is too indefinite. When will you come again?”
She looked him full in the face.
“Do you wish me to be frank with you?” she inquired. “Well, then, to tell you the truth, I think I shall come no more. I have no pretext, and I cannot invent one.”
“Then we must say farewell,” he remarked.
“No, I will not do that!” she answered.
She pronounced these words in terrified anger. Then she added more gently, without knowing what she was saying, and without moving from her chair:
“I am going.”