“Oh, M. Berlioz, I am so sorry I have only just got your message and here is my answer. Unfortunately I shall be away from home to-morrow; a thousand pardons for the inconvenience I have caused you.”
She was putting the letter in her pocket when I cried:
“Oh, please let me have it!”
“It is hardly worth while——”
“I beg of you, since it was meant for me.”
She gave it me and for the first time I saw her writing.
“Then I shall see you no more?”
“Not if you leave to-night. May your journey be pleasant.”
Pressing my hand, she and her two friends passed on, leaving me—can it be believed?—almost happy.
I had seen, had spoken to her again, I had a letter from her in which she sent me her kindest regards.