"My dear Old Fellow,
"Don't lie angry with me for having gone away like a madman. I am mad, you know. But what can I do? I am what I am. Thanks for your dear hospitality. I enjoyed it much. But, you know, I am not fit to live with other people. I'm not so sure either that I am fit to live. I am only fit to stay in my corner and love people—at a distance: it is wiser so. When I see them at too close quarters, I become misanthropic. And I don't want to be that. I want to love men and women, I want to love you all. Oh! How I long to help you all! If I could only help you to be—to be happy! How gladly would I give all the happiness I may have in exchange!… But that is forbidden. One can only show others the way. One cannot go their way in their stead. Each of us must save himself. Save yourself! Save yourselves! I love you.
"CHRISTOPHE.
"My respects to Madame Jeannin."
"Madame Jeannin" read the letter with a smile of contempt and her lips tightly pressed together, and said dryly:
"Well. Follow his advice. Save yourself."
But when Olivier held out his hand for the letter, Jacqueline crumpled it up and flung it down, and two great tears welled up into her eyes. Olivier took her hands.
"What's the matter?" he asked, with some emotion.
"Let me be!" she cried angrily.
She went out. As she reached the door she cried: