Micheline, more touched by his despair than she had been by his reproaches, went to him and wiped his face with her lace handkerchief.
Her white hand was close to the young man's mouth,--and he kissed it eagerly.

Then, as if roused by the action, he rose with a changed look in his eyes, and seized the young girl in his arms.

Micheline did not utter a word.

She looked coldly and resolutely at Pierre, and threw back her head to avoid the contact of his eager lips.

That look was enough.
The arms which held her were unloosed, and Pierre moved away, murmuring: "I beg your pardon.