Urbain could not tear himself away from Blanche; his heart was oppressed; the eyes of both the young lovers were filled with tears; the young girl extended her hand to her friend and he pressed it to his heart.
"I don't know what's the matter with me," said Blanche, "but your going makes me sadder than usual."
"What childishness!" said Marguerite; "no one would suppose that you were going to meet within two days. Isn't M. Urbain coming tomorrow evening? Come, come, it's time to go to bed."
The lovers again said good-by, sighing deeply, and Urbain finally followed Marguerite, who shut the street door on him and then went upstairs to Blanche and scolded her for her sadness. But she could not restore her gayety, for the dictates of reason may persuade the mind, but cannot allay the fears of the heart.
Not more than a quarter of an hour after Urbain's departure some one rapped loudly at the street door.
"That's Urbain, no doubt," said Blanche; "he saw that I was sad and has come back to console me."
"That's very improbable," said Marguerite; "it's more likely M. Touquet who has returned. However, I am astonished that he should knock, for I thought he had taken his master key."
"Go and see who it is, dear nurse."
"Yes, yes, mademoiselle; but if it should not be monsieur? It is late—we are alone in the house, and I don't know if I ought to open to any one."
"Do you want me to look out of the window, dear nurse, I shall very soon see if it's Urbain."