"Is it about the copying?" she said, hesitating.
"The copying, and another matter," he replied, and stood aside, holding the door for her to pass. She folded her work neatly, laid it down, and came silently into his room, where she remained standing, and close to the door.
Dangeau crossed to his table, asked her a trifling question or two about the numbering of the thickly written pages before him, and then paused for so long a space that the constraint which lay on Mademoiselle extended itself to him also, and rested heavily upon them both.
"I am going away to-morrow," he said at last.
"Yes, Citizen." It was her first word to him for many days, and he was struck by the altered quality of the soft tones.
They seemed to set him infinitely far away from her and her concerns, and it was surprising how much that hurt him.
Nevertheless he stumbled on:
"I am obliged to go; you believe that, do you not?"
"But, yes, Citizen." More distant still the voice that had rung friendly once, but behind the distance a weariness that spurred him.
"You are very friendless," he said abruptly. "You said that I might be your friend, and the first thing that I do is to desert you. If I had been given a choice—but one has obligations—it is a trust I cannot shirk."