“I will wait for him.”

And thereafter she spread the wings of her birds to their fullest extent, as if they were all going, one after another, to Ismailia in Egypt.  And that was a long distance!

Before sailing from Marseilles, young Risler wrote Sidonie a farewell letter, at once laughable and touching, wherein, mingling the most technical details with the most heartrending adieux, the unhappy engineer declared that he was about to set sail, with a broken heart, on the transport Sahib, “a sailing-ship and steamship combined, with engines of fifteen-hundred-horse power,” as if he hoped that so considerable a capacity would make an impression on his ungrateful betrothed, and cause her ceaseless remorse.  But Sidonie had very different matters on her mind.

She was beginning to be disturbed by Georges’s silence.  Since she left Savigny she had heard from him only once.  All her letters were left unanswered.  To be sure, she knew through Risler that Georges was very busy, and that his uncle’s death had thrown the management of the factory upon him, imposing upon him a responsibility that was beyond his strength.  But to abandon her without a word!

From the window on the landing, where she had resumed her silent observations—­for she had so arranged matters as not to return to Mademoiselle Le Mire—­little Chebe tried to distinguish her lover, watched him as he went to and fro across the yards and among the buildings; and in the afternoon, when it was time for the train to start for Savigny, she saw him enter his carriage to go to his aunt and cousin, who were passing the early months of their period of mourning at the grandfather’s chateau in the country.

All this excited and alarmed her; and the proximity of the factory rendered Georges’s avoidance of her even more apparent.  To think that by raising her voice a little she could make him turn toward the place where she stood!  To think that they were separated only by a wall!  And yet, at that moment they were very far apart.

Do you remember, little Chebe, that unhappy winter evening when the excellent Risler rushed into your parents’ room with an extraordinary expression of countenance, exclaiming, “Great news!”?

Great news, indeed!  Georges Fromont had just informed him that, in accordance with his uncle’s last wishes, he was to marry his cousin Claire, and that, as he was certainly unequal to the task of carrying on the business alone, he had resolved to take him, Risler, for a partner, under the firm name of Fromont jeune and Risler aine.

How did you succeed, little Chebe, in maintaining your self-possession when you learned that the factory had eluded your grasp and that another woman had taken your place?  What a terrible evening!—­Madame Chebe sat by the table mending; M. Chebe before the fire drying his clothes, which were wet through by his having walked a long distance in the rain.  Oh! that miserable room, overflowing with gloom and ennui!  The lamp gave a dim light.  The supper, hastily prepared, had left in the room the odor of the poor man’s kitchen.  And Risler, intoxicated with joy, talking with increasing animation, laid great plans!