And she burst out laughing, to put herself in countenance.

“Don’t laugh, Christine; I am quite serious,” Raoul answered.

And she replied gravely: “I did not make you come to tell me such things as that.”

“You ‘made me come,’ Christine; you knew that your letter would not leave me indignant and that I should hasten to Perros. How can you have thought that, if you did not think I loved you?”

“I thought you would remember our games here, as children, in which my father so often joined. I really don’t know what I thought.⁠ ⁠… Perhaps I was wrong to write to you.⁠ ⁠… This anniversary and your sudden appearance in my room at the Opera, the other evening, reminded me of the time long past and made me write to you as the little girl that I then was.⁠ ⁠…”