"Certainly."
After that there was nothing left for him to do but to go. Standing in front of her he did not know how to show her his respect. In the course of this unlooked-for interview, he had constantly looked for an opportunity to ask her pardon. To the humiliation of his recollections was now added that of his inadequacy in a situation in which he most desired to use the resources of his mind. But there was another surprise in store for him. Elizabeth offered him her hand, and with a trembling voice, said:
"I also wished to tell you, Monsieur, that I have forgotten your last words at Uriage. Give me your hand. You had misjudged me; it was my fault. A woman alone has to be so careful. Remain Albert's friend, and be a little friendly to me, will you? We shall meet seldom. I only remember the truths I heard from you one day, which have made me understand one's own contribution to one's unhappiness.—"
Philippe, bending down, kissed the fingers which she gently drew away.
"Madame," he repeated. "Madame."
And when he could master his emotion, he said:
"I shall be worthy of your pardon. Ah, if you only knew how I have reproached myself! Now I feel so much younger, so much lighter. Ah, one's own contempt is hard to bear."
"Sh!" she said, her finger on her lips as a signal to him not to continue the subject, never to speak of it again.
He bowed.
"Good-by, Madame. You will never have a more devoted friend."