friend patiently waited for her thoughts to return to him. It was at such times, when the darkness overtook her amidst this delightful torpor, that she seemed to be coming back from a long journey. She was almost angry with herself. But why? She could not have said.
One day, at five o'clock, as she was going down to her garden, she received a note from Mme. de la Vaudraye.
"My Dear Gilberte,
"Guillaume and I are going for a stroll in the Forest of Andaine. It is such a fine evening: do come with us."
Should she go? To do so meant a break in sweet custom that had lent such charm to the most oppressive hours of her life, meant throwing over the constant friendship of the bad days.
She wavered and, wavering, went up to her room, put on her things, went out and knocked at the La Vaudrayes' door.
