"You will not suffer me to remain," he exclaimed, "then it is a preconcerted thing! You were expecting other friends, friends better than myself; shame on you, Babette!"
"You are detestable," said Babette, "I hate you!" and she wept. "Go! Go!"
"I have not deserved this!" said he, and departed. His cheeks burned like fire, his heart burned like fire.
Babette threw herself on her bed and wept.
"So much as I love you, Rudy, how can you believe ill of me!"
She was angry, very angry, and this was good for her; otherwise she would have sorrowed deeply; but now she could sleep, and she slept the strengthening sleep of youth.