She made haste in order that she might take refuge in her own apartment to be alone with her husband. He, however, as if he shunned this tete-a-tete, eager as he was for solitude, quickly attributed his unpleasant humor to neuralgia or headache. Too much work or too close application of mind. "At the Ministerial Council perhaps?" remarked Adrienne inquiringly. "Yes, at the Council,--I must take a little fresh air--I will take a round in the Bois--The day is dry--That will do me good!" "Will you take me?" she said gayly. "If you wish," he replied. Then, in an almost embarrassed tone, he added: "Perhaps it will be better for me to go alone--I have to think--to work--There is no sitting at the Chamber to-day; and the day is entirely at my own disposal." "Just as you please," Adrienne replied, looking at Sulpice with a tender and submissive glance. "It would, however, have been so delightful and beneficial to have gone to the Bois together on such a bright day! But you and your affairs before everything, you are right; take an airing, be off, come, breathe--I shall be glad to see you return smiling cheerfully as in the sweet days." Sulpice looked at his young wife with a fondness that almost inspired him with remorse. In her look there was so complete an expression of her love. Then her affection was so deep, and her calm like the face of a motionless lake was so manifest, and she loved him so deeply, so intelligently. And how trustful, too! He was impelled now to beg her don her cloak and to have a fur robe put into the coupe and set out now, when the sun was gradually showing itself, like two lovers bound for a country party. At the same time he felt a desperate longing to be alone, to abandon himself to his new idea and to the image that beset him. He felt that he was leaving Adrienne for Marianne. He did not hold to the suggestion, in fact, he repeated that it would be better if he were alone. As there would be no session of the Chamber for a whole week, he would go out with Adrienne the next day. The coachman could drive them a long distance, even to Saint-Cloud or Ville-d'Avray. They would breakfast together all alone, unknown, in the woods. "Truly?" said Adrienne. "Truly! I feel the necessity of avoiding so many demonstrations in my honor." Sulpice laughed. "I am stifled by them," he said, as he kissed Adrienne, whose face was pink with delight at the thought of that unrestrained escapade. "How you blush!" said Sulpice, ingenuously. "What is the matter with you?" "With me? Nothing." She looked at him anxiously. "You think my complexion too ruddy! I have not the Parisian tint. Only remain a minister for some time, and that will vanish. There is no dispraise in that." She again offered her brow to him. He left her, happy to feel himself free.