"Ungrateful Edmond:
"Do you mean to kill me with grief? have you no pity for my suffering? is there no longer in your heart a single spark of that fire which you once swore burned there for me?
"I cannot believe it; I love you too dearly to be forgotten thus! You have ceased to see that flower-maker, Amélia, I know; you could not love such a woman long. I forgive you that whim, I promise, I swear to you that I will never mention it. Let the past be nothing more than a dream.
"Come back, dear Edmond, come back to her who cannot exist apart from you, and to whom you have made known a sentiment that will end only with her life.
"This evening, at nine o'clock, I shall drive in a coupé on the Champs-Elysées. My carriage will stop in front of the Jardin d'Hiver, on the other side of the road. Open your left hand twice to my coachman, and he will open the door.
"You will come; I insist—no, but I entreat you.
"THÉLÉNIE."
"Well," said Edmond, "did I not guess right: reproaches, entreaties, oceans of love, and a rendezvous?"
"To which you will not go?"
"Most assuredly not; for I should be very sorry to renew a liaison which had lost all charm for me, even before I knew Agathe! All the more so, now.—What are you thinking about?"