He was very insistent that I should spend the whole evening with him and
not go till the morning; but Marguerite had not been well when I left
her. I told him of it, and begged his permission to go back to her
early, promising to come again on the morrow.
The weather was fine; he walked with me as far as the station. Never had
I been so happy. The future appeared as I had long desired to see it. I
had never loved my father as I loved him at that moment.
Just as I was leaving him, he once more begged me to stay. I refused.
"You are really very much in love with her?" he asked.
"Madly."
"Go, then," and he passed his hand across his forehead as if to chase
a thought, then opened his mouth as if to say something; but he only
pressed my hand, and left me hurriedly, saying: "Till to-morrow, then!"