But at the moment when I least expected it, she suddenly arose, then, like a flash, ran towards the door and disappeared.
Dame Louise, who entered the room a few moments later, found me in the same place, as if struck by a thunderbolt.
I could not understand how this interview could have ended so abruptly, and in such a ridiculous manner, before I had expressed a hundredth part of what I had to say; before I even could foresee what the consequences of it were.
"Mademoiselle has gone?" Dame Louise asked me, raising her yellow eyebrows.
I looked at her with a stupefied air, and left.
XVII.
I passed through the town and walked straight ahead to the fields. A feeling of vexed disappointment filled my heart. I loaded myself with reproaches. Why did I not appreciate the motive that had induced this young girl to change the place of our meeting? Why did I not appreciate how hard it would be for her to go to this old woman's house? Why, finally, did I not stay away?
Alone with her in that dark, isolated room, I had had the courage to thrust her away, and to remonstrate with her; and, now her image pursued me, I asked her pardon—her pale face, her eyes timid and full of tears; her hair in disorder, flowing over her bended neck; the touch of her forehead as it rested upon my breast; all these remembrances made me beside myself, and I thought I still heard her murmuring, "I am yours!"
I reflected: I have obeyed the voice of my conscience.—But no? it was false! for, most certainly, I should never have wished in my heart for such a dénouement.—And, then, to be separated from her, to live without her, shall I have the strength?—"Fool! miserable fool that I am!" I cried angrily.