‘_Wie du willst_,’ he replied, using the _du_ for the first time, as Sara instantly noticed. ‘Thank you,’ she answered; ‘and here they are to say that lunch is ready. Shall we go to the dining-room?’ ‘I shall have to go directly afterwards, though,’ said he, ‘for poor Rupert will be cooling his heels at my house, wondering what has become of one who _never_ fails to keep an appointment.’ ‘On which day do you think of setting off?’ asked Sara, as they sat down to the table. ‘To-morrow,’ he replied. ‘To-morrow! There is something remorseless about to-morrow.’ The meal was not a long one. Sara was somewhat flushed and excited. She hardly knew what had prompted her to insist so strongly upon Rudolf’s remaining, but she was glad she had done it. He sat grave and composed as ever. Having made up his mind to the wrench of parting from her, he felt it rather increased his difficulty than otherwise when she displayed this sudden momentary gleam of–what was it?–a latent tenderness, or an amiability called forth by the fact that she was on the point of being rid of him for some months to come, and felt that the least she could do was graciously to ‘speed the parting guest.’ Very soon after lunch was over he said, very decidedly this time, that he must go. ‘Must you, really? And–from what place will you first write to me?’ ‘Suppose we say from Trieste?’ ‘From Trieste–very well. I shall expect a letter from there.’ Both were speaking composedly, but Sara was on the verge of tears, and he was not unmoved, though he successfully concealed the fact. ‘Good-bye, then,’ he said. There was a pause. ‘I have a horror of saying good-bye,’ said Sara at last, forcing herself to speak with an appearance of calm. ‘Have you? It is one of the pains that attend the pleasures of life, I suppose.’ ‘Pleasures?’ ‘The pleasure of travelling, I mean. You can’t go abroad without saying good-bye, unless you wish to be thought a monster.’ ‘Ah, you can joke about it. I cannot. And in a case like this, when you are going such a very long way off. Suppose–anything happened in which I wanted advice.’ ‘In that envelope you will find full directions, and the address of my confidential manager and head man–indeed he is more than that, and as he is a gentleman in every respect, you will be able to apply to him as you would to me.’ ‘Indeed I shall not, Rudolf!’ she exclaimed, almost sharply. Another pause. ‘I am afraid my going will vex you; upset you. Would you like me to give it up?’ he asked slowly. ‘Oh no! no!’ she answered hastily. ‘Not for worlds! It was but a momentary folly. Let it pass! I hope you will have every kind of enjoyment on your journey.’