He had to go, she was inflexible.
When M. Hervart got into the express at Sottevast, Rose cried. She had forgiven him because she loved him. She had forgiven him because he had obeyed.
CHAPTER XIV
From 8.57 a.m. till the hour of 6 p.m., when she rang at his door, M. Hervart had precisely one idea, a single one: he must meet Gratienne.
She had been in Paris since the day before, and she had just written to him when she got his telegram from Caen. Her delight was very great. She fulfilled her lover's desire with joy.
"I love you, my old darling!"
M. Hervart spent two days without thinking of Rose except as something very remote. He was thrilled to re-discover the Louvre: he looked at the colonnade before he went in; even the "fighting Hero" seemed a novelty to him: he went and meditated in front of the crouching Venus, of which he was especially fond. It was there that he had often met Gratienne. How he loved her! What a pleasure it had been to come back to his "ephebe."
On the third day after his arrival he received Gratienne's letter forwarded from Robinvast. That disturbed him a little—Rose's writing superimposed on Gratienne's.
"But aren't they superimposed in life? No, I mean, mingled together. Rose is much too ignorant of the way things go to have any suspicion. And besides, I must have got at least ten letters in women's handwriting while I was at Robinvast and I never made any attempt at concealment.... Rose—it's true I went rather far with her. But whose fault was that? If she had resisted my first attacks, I shouldn't have insisted. What an egoist she is!... However, I ought to write to her. No, not to-day. It's my turn to be cross."