“Certainly.”

“It is at the Hôtel de Provence, is it not, that you will wait for me at midday?”

He nodded.

“Till tomorrow then!” said Emma in a last caress; and she watched him go.

He did not turn round. She ran after him, and, leaning over the water’s edge between the bulrushes⁠—

“Tomorrow!” she cried.

He was already on the other side of the river and walking fast across the meadow.

After a few moments Rodolphe stopped; and when he saw her with her white gown gradually fade away in the shade like a ghost, he was seized with such a beating of the heart that he leant against a tree lest he should fall.