He must think about it; but he might so give play to his feelings that no one should see him in the moments of his wretchedness.

He went out, therefore, among the dark walks in the town garden, and there, as he paced one alley after another in the gloom, he revelled in the agony which a passionate man feels when the woman whom he loves is to be given into the arms of another.
As he thought of his own life during the past year or fifteen months, he could not but tell himself that his present suffering was due in some degree to his own fault.

If he really loved this girl, and if it had been his intention to try and win her for himself, why had he taken his father at his word and gone away from Granpere?
And why, having left Granpere, had he taken no trouble to let her know that he still loved her?
As he asked himself these questions, he was hardly able himself to understand the pride which had driven him away from his old home, and which had kept him silent so long.
She had promised him that she would be true to him.

Then had come those few words from his father's mouth, words which he thought his father should never have spoken to him, and he had gone away, telling himself that he would come back and fetch her as soon as he could offer her a home independently of his father.

If, after the promises she had made to him, she would not wait for him without farther words and farther vows, she would not be worth the having.
In going, he had not precisely told himself that there should be no intercourse between them for twelve months; but the silence which he had maintained, and his continued absence, had been the consequence of the mood of his mind and the tenor of his purpose.