"Why do you not reproach me?" he said at last, abruptly, not able to contain himself any longer; "why do you not say all the bad things you think about me?"
"Because I have nothing to reproach you for," she answered, very gently; "and I do not think any bad things about you."
"Well, then, you do not care about me any longer."
"I do not care about you any longer?" she said, and there was an accent of such intense grief in her voice that he was quite overcome by it.
He knew so well how deeply she loved him, that he dreaded the thought of the awful suffering she would have to endure if he were to be quite straightforward with her now, and so, out of affection for her, he endeavoured to conceal from her the real truth.
"Yes," he began, improvising with difficulty an excuse of which he had not thought until that moment, "you must have fancied that I was not thinking of you, for you have been here at The Pines a fortnight, and I have not sent you a line. The fact is, it is very difficult to arrange to meet here at Pont-sur-Loire; everyone knows me here, and, you see, for your sake, I scarcely liked to ask you to meet me in the town."
She did not make any reply, and he could not understand her silence.
"Why do you not answer me?" he asked at length.
"Why? well, because you are telling me now exactly the opposite to what you said when you asked me to accept the Juzencourts' invitation."
"What did I say?" he asked, slightly embarrassed.