she drew him to the sofa and made him sit down beside her.
Then, however, for a few seconds, in which he waited with hammering
pulses, she did not speak. The dull fear at his heart became a
certainty; and, unable to bear the suspense any longer, he took one of
her hands and laid it on his forehead.

Then she said: "Maurice--poor, foolish Maurice!--it is not possible.
You see that yourself, I'm sure."

"Yes. I know quite well: it is presumption."

"Oh, I don't mean that. But there are so many reasons. And you, too,
Maurice ... Look at me, and tell me if what you wrote was not just an
attempt to make up for what happened last night." And as he did not
reply, she added: "You mustn't make yourself reproaches. I, too, was to
blame."

"It was nothing of the sort. I've been trying for weeks now to tell
you. I love you--have loved you since the first time I saw you."

He let go of her hand, and she sat forward, with her arms along her
knees. Her eyes were troubled; but she did not lose her calm manner of
speaking. "I'm sorry, Maurice, very sorry--you believe me' don't you,
when I say so? But believe me, too, it's not so serious as you think.
You are young. You will get over it, and forget--if not soon, at least
in time. You must forget me, and some day you will meet the nice, good
woman, who is to be your wife. And when that happens, you will look
back on your fancy for me as something foolish, and unreal. You won't
be able to understand it then, and you will be grateful to me, for not
having taken you at your word."

Maurice laughed. All the same, he tried to take his dismissal well: he
rose, wrung her hand, and left her.

In the seclusion of his own room, he went through the blackest hour of
his life.

He began to make final preparations for his departure. His choice had
fallen on Stuttgart: it was far distant from Leipzig; he would be well
out of temptation's way--the temptation suddenly to return. He wrote a
letter home, apprising his relatives of his intention: by the time they
received the letter, it would be too late for them to interfere.
Otherwise, he took no one into his confidence. He would greatly have
liked to wait until the present term was over; another month, and the
summer vacation would have begun, and he would have been able to leave
without making himself conspicuous. But every day it grew more
impossible to be there and not to see her--for four days now he had
kept away, fighting down his unreaso