“Oh, it’s nothing! No doubt, it is only the night air.”
“And who doesn’t want for women, either,” softly added the sailor, thinking he was paying the stranger a compliment.
Then, spitting on his hands, he took the oars again.
Yet they had to part. The adieux were sad. He was to send his letters to Mere Rollet, and she gave him such precise instructions about a double envelope that he admired greatly her amorous astuteness.
“So you can assure me it is all right?” she said with her last kiss.
“Yes, certainly.”
“But why,” he thought afterwards as he came back through the streets alone, “is she so very anxious to get this power of attorney?”
Chapter Four
Léon soon put on an air of superiority before his comrades, avoided their company, and completely neglected his work.
He waited for her letters; he re-read them; he wrote to her. He called her to mind with all the strength of his desires and of his memories. Instead of lessening with absence, this longing to see her again grew, so that at last on Saturday morning he escaped from his office.