Why on earth couldn’t he leave her to grow in her own way? Her pride rose at the bare thought of return. I shall still wear your favor—even if it is a stolen and forbidden favor—in my casque. ‘I can’t do that. Arrived in Paris she remembered that she had not the money for a fiacre. Believe me, the bitterness of it has almost departed, crushed out of me together with much of the weariness and sorrow I brought with me here by the nameless glory of these lonely months. “May I sit beside you?” “It’s a very difficult one,” said her aunt. It ought not to be much.
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