Jean had refused, alleging that he had much to do the night before his departure.
He arrived in the evening, about half-past ten; he came on foot.

Several times on the way he had been inclined to return.
"If I had courage enough," he said to himself, "I would not see her again.

I shall leave to-morrow, and return no more to Souvigny while she is there.

My resolution is taken, and taken forever." But he continued his way, he would see her again--for the last time.
As soon as he entered the drawing-room, Bettina hastened to him.
"It is you at last! How late you are!" "I have been very busy." "And you are going to-morrow ?" "Yes, to-morrow." "Early ?" "At five in the morning." "You will go by the road which runs by the wall of the park, and goes through the village ?" "Yes, that is the way we shall go." "Why so early in the morning?
I would have gone out on the terrace to see you pass, and to wish you good-by." Bettina detained for a moment Jean's burning hand in hers.

He drew it mournfully away, with an effort.
"I must go and speak to your sister," said he.
"Directly, she has not seen you, there are a dozen persons round her.
Come and sit here a little while, near me." He was obliged to seat himself beside her.
"We are going away, too," said she.
"You!" "Yes.