Susie was, besides, conscious of her own innocence.  With others she had sometimes been coquettish, very coquettish.  To torment them a little, was that such a great crime?  They had nothing to do, they were good-for-nothing, it occupied them while it amused her.  It helped them to pass their time, and it helped her, too.  But Susie had not to reproach herself for having flirted with Jean.  She recognized his merit and his superiority; he was worth more than the others, he was a man to suffer seriously, and that was what Mrs. Scott did not wish.  Already, two or three times, she had been on the point of speaking to him very seriously, very affectionately, but she had reflected Jean was going away for three weeks; on his return, if it were still necessary, she would read him a lecture, and would act in such a manner that love should not come and foolishly interfere in their friendship.

So Jean was to go the next day.  Bettina had insisted that he should spend this last day at Longueval, and dine at the house.  Jean had refused, alleging that he had much to do the night before his departure.

He arrived in the evening, about half-past ten; he came on foot.  Several times on the way he had been inclined to return.

“If I had courage enough,” he said to himself, “I would not see her again.  I shall leave to-morrow, and return no more to Souvigny while she is there.  My resolution is taken, and taken forever.”

But he continued his way, he would see her again—­for the last time.

As soon as he entered the drawing-room, Bettina hastened to him.

“It is you at last!  How late you are!”

“I have been very busy.”

“And you are going to-morrow?”

“Yes, to-morrow.”

“Early?”

“At five in the morning.”

“You will go by the road which runs by the wall of the park, and goes through the village?”

“Yes, that is the way we shall go.”

“Why so early in the morning?  I would have gone out on the terrace to see you pass, and to wish you good-by.”

Bettina detained for a moment Jean’s burning hand in hers.  He drew it mournfully away, with an effort.

“I must go and speak to your sister,” said he.

“Directly, she has not seen you, there are a dozen persons round her.  Come and sit here a little while, near me.”

He was obliged to seat himself beside her.

“We are going away, too,” said she.

“You!”

“Yes.  An hour ago, we received a telegram from my brother-in-law, which has caused us great joy.  We did not expect him for a month, but he is coming back in a fortnight.  He will embark the day after to-morrow at New York, on board the Labrador.  We are going to meet him at Havre.  We shall also start the day after to-morrow; we are going to take the children, it will do them a great deal of good to spend a few days at the seaside.  How pleased my brother-in-law will be to know you—­he knows you already, we have spoken of you in all our letters.  I am sure you and Mr. Scott will get on extremely well together, he is so good.  How long shall you stay away?”