"It is time to have done with it," he thought; "Delmare may appear at any moment, and before that happens I must induce her to return home voluntarily."
He became more urgent and less tender; the pallor of his lips betrayed the working of an impatience more imperious than delicate. There was in his kisses a sort of abruptness, almost anger. Indiana was afraid. A good angel spread its wings over that wavering and bewildered soul; she came to herself and repelled the attacks of cold and selfish vice.
"Leave me," she said; "I do not propose to yield through weakness what I am willing to accord for love or gratitude. You cannot need proofs of my affection; my presence here is a sufficiently decisive one, and I bring the future with me. But allow me to keep all the strength of my conscience to contend against the powerful obstacles that still separate us; I need stoicism and tranquillity."
"What are you talking about?" angrily demanded Raymon, who was furious at her resistance and had not listened to her.
And, losing his head altogether in that moment of torture and wrath, he pushed her roughly away and strode up and down the room, with heaving bosom and head on fire; then he took a carafe and drank a large glass of water which suddenly calmed his excitement and cooled his love. Whereupon he looked at her ironically and said:
"Come, madame, it is time for you to retire."
A ray of light at last enlightened Indiana and laid Raymon's heart bare before her.
"You are right," she said.
And she walked toward the door.
"Pray take your cloak and boa," he said, detaining her.