He took his hat with that air of supreme disdain and of a definitive rupture of relations which was natural to him. He went out without saying where he was going. It was ten o'clock at night. Thérèse passed the night in horrible distress of mind. He returned at daylight, and locked himself into his room, closing the doors noisily. She dared not show herself for fear of irritating him, and went softly to her own room. It was the first time that they had gone to sleep without a word of affection or pardon. The next day, instead of returning to her work, she packed her boxes and made all her preparations for departure. He woke at three in the afternoon, and asked her laughingly what she was thinking about. He had recovered his senses, and made up his mind what to do. He had walked alone by the seashore during the night; he had reflected, and had become calm once more. "That great, roaring, monotonous sea irritated me," he said, gaily. "First of all, I wrote some poetry. I compared myself to it. I was tempted to throw myself into its greenish bosom! Then it seemed to me tiresome and absurd on the part of the waves to be forever complaining because there are cliffs along the shore. If they are not strong enough to destroy them, let them hold their peace! Let them do like me, who do not propose to complain any more. See how charming I am this morning; I have determined to work, I shall remain here. I have shaved with great care. Kiss me, Thérèse, and let us not refer again to that idiotic last evening. Unpack these trunks and take them away quickly! don't let me see them again! They seem like a reproach, and I no longer deserve it." There was a long interval between this off-hand way of making peace with himself and the time when an anxious glance from Thérèse was enough to make him bend both knees, and yet it was no more than three months. Their thoughts were diverted by a surprise. Monsieur Palmer, who had arrived in Genoa that morning, came to ask them to dine with him. Laurent was enchanted by this diversion. Although he was always cold in his manners toward other men, he leaped on the American's neck, saying that he was sent by Heaven. Palmer was more surprised than flattered by this cordial welcome. A single glance at Thérèse had sufficed to show him that it was not the effusion of happiness. However, Laurent said nothing of his ennui, and Thérèse was surprised to hear him praise the city and the country. He even declared that the women were charming. How did he know them? At eight o'clock, he called for his overcoat and went out. Palmer would have taken his leave at the same time. "Why don't you stay a little longer with Thérèse?" said Laurent. "It will please her. We are altogether alone here. I am going out for an hour. Wait till I return before you have your tea."