"From that moment," M. Hervart went on, "when you said, 'One must believe.'"
"I said what I thought."
"It's what I think too."
"In this way," he said to himself, "I say what I ought to say without going too far. 'Oh, if only I dared!"
Meanwhile, he was disturbed by the thought of the microscope.
"I shall buy one," he said, "and leave it with you. It will be of use to me when I come again."
"Stop," said Rose; her voice was low, but its tone was violent. "When you talk of coming again, you're talking of going away."
M. Hervart had nothing to answer. He got out of the difficulty by renewing the pressure of his legs.
They reached the little lonely station. The train came in, and a quarter of an hour later they were in Cherbourg.
M. Des Boys at once announced his intention of going to see the museum. He wanted to look at a few masterpieces, he said, so that he might once more compare his own art with that of the great men. M. Hervart protested. For him, a holiday consisted in getting away from museums. Furthermore, he regarded this particular collection, with its list of great names, as being in large part apocryphal.