“I regret extremely I can not, I am not well tonight; I persisted in coming because I would not leave without wishing you good-by, but dance, no, it is impossible!”
Mrs. Norton began the prelude of the waltz.
“Well,” said Paul, coming up quite joyful, “who is it to be, he or I?”
“You,” she said, sadly, without removing her eyes from Jean.
She was much disturbed, and replied without knowing well what she said. She immediately regretted having accepted, she would have liked to stay there, near him. But it was too late, Paul took her hand and led her away.
Jean rose; he looked at the two, Bettina and Paul, a haze floated before his eyes, he suffered cruelly.
“There is only one thing I can do,” thought he, “profit by this waltz, and go. To-morrow I will write a few lines to Mrs. Scott to excuse myself.”
He gained the door, he looked no more at Bettina; had he looked, he would have stayed.
But Bettina looked at him; and all at once she said to Paul:
“Thank you very much, but I am a little tired, let us stop, please. You will excuse me, will you not?”