"Of course you love me, since you cry!" Gerald said, caressing her. And he went on, with more assurance. "Listen, my little Zozé.... Of course, to meet you again now, at once, to-morrow or the next day, that could only bring about more scenes, sadness ... painful interviews.... You need rest and reflection.... You must have time ... to forgive me.... Oh! I am not a brute, be sure that I guess what you are feeling.... Here is what I suggest.... I was to leave next week for Poitou, to visit my aunt at Cambres.... Well, I am going to advance my departure.... I shall leave this very night.... I'll stay at Cambres until the end of the month and write to you as often as you like.... And when I come back, everything will be forgotten, I give you my word on it.... Tell me, does this suit you?" With each jolt Mme. Chambannes let her head dreamily bump upon Gerald's shoulder. The young man repeated: "Answer me, my little Zozé.... Does this suit you?" "Yes, yes!" Mme. Chambannes said meditatively. "I have an idea, too...." "Tell me, my poor Zozé!..." "I should be bored in Paris.... I should be too sad without you.... So, I am going to recuperate at the Frettes, until you return.... When I get home, I am going to pack my trunks and I shall leave by the 5 o'clock express." "Alone?" "No! I am going to mobilize my Aunt Panhias!..." "That's right! An excellent idea." There came a pause. She felt throughout her body a lifting sensation of beatitude, a feeling of being rescued, which prevented her from speaking. She nestled quite close to Gerald, with an outpouring of avowal which was stronger than her will, and sighed languorously: "Oh, my little Raldo! How good it is to have kept you!" It was 2 o'clock before she returned home. CHAPTER XII Mme. Chambannes had not been gone one hour when a cab stopped outside her house. The two MM. Raindal stepped out. In order to avoid any insidious remark from his brother, the master had donned an old frock-coat. Uncle Cyprien, on the contrary, had dressed himself in his best clothes, a tail-coat, the tails of which still showed the folds which a long stay in the cupboard had given them, a pair of gray check trousers and red dogskin gloves. He was close-shaved and had replaced his thick cornel-wood stick with a thin rush cane with a gold handle and two brown silk tassels inherited from M. Raindal his father. Firmin the butler opened the door for them; he was so surprised that he fell back a few steps. He was, moreover, dressed to go out, with a suit of English check and a felt hat. "What! M. Raindal!" he exclaimed, as he removed his hat. "But madame is not here.... She left an hour ago for the Frettes ... and I am joining her to-morrow morning.... Did not madame warn monsieur?" Uncle Cyprien was biting his mustache to suppress a laugh that he felt coming. "No, madame said nothing to me," M. Raindal kept on repeating jerkily.... "It's extraordinary. I hope at least there is nothing serious?"