, and soon a
messenger brought a telegram from her aunt, saying that she would not
return until the next morning at seven o'clock, by the first train.

"Very well, Henriette," her uncle said, "go and show the gentlemen their
rooms." She showed Rivet his first, and he whispered to me: "There was
no danger of her taking us into yours first." Then she took me to my
room, and as soon as she was alone with me, I took her in my arms again,
and tried to excite her senses and overcome her resistance, but when she
felt that she was near succumbing, she escaped out of the room, and I
got between the sheets, very much put out and excited and feeling rather
foolish, for I knew that I should not sleep much, and I was wondering
how I could have committed such a mistake, when there was a gentle knock
at my door, and on my asking who was there, a low voice replied: "I."

I dressed myself quickly, and opened the door, and she came in. "I
forgot to ask you what you take in the morning," she said: "chocolate,
tea or coffee?" I put my arms round her impetuously and said, devouring
her with kisses: "I will take ... I will take...." But she freed
herself from my arms, blew out my candle and disappeared, and left me
alone in the dark, furious, trying to find some matches, and not able to
do so. At last I got some and I went into the passage, feeling half mad,
with my candlestick in my hand.

What was I going to do? I did not stop to reason, I only wanted to find
her, and I would. I went a few steps without reflecting, but then I
suddenly thought to myself. "Supposing I should go into the uncle's
room, what should I say?...." And I stood still, with my head a void,
and my heart beating. But in a few moments, I thought of an answer: "Of
course, I shall say that I am looking for Rivet's room, to speak to him
about an important matter, and I began to inspect all the doors, trying
to find hers, and at last I took hold of a handle at a venture, turned
it and went in ... there was Henriette, sitting on her bed and looking
at me in tears. So I gently turned the key, and going up to her on
tip-toe, I said: "I forgot to ask you for something to read,
Mademoiselle." She struggled and resisted, but I soon opened the book I
was looking for. I will not tell you its title, but it is the most
wonderful of romances, the most divine of poems. And when once I had
turned the first page, she let me turn over as many leaves as I liked,
and I got through so many