'I must leave you.

I cannot live here, and be for ever silent on the all-absorbing subject of my thoughts and wishes.' 'Formerly, I believe, you spent but little of your time at home,' I answered; 'it will do you no harm to absent yourself again, for a while--if that be really necessary.' 'If that be really possible,' he muttered; 'and can you bid me go so coolly?
Do you really wish it ?' 'Most certainly I do.

If you cannot see me without tormenting me as you have lately done, I would gladly say farewell and never see you more.' He made no answer, but, bending from his horse, held out his hand towards me.

I looked up at his face, and saw therein such a look of genuine agony of soul, that, whether bitter disappointment, or wounded pride, or lingering love, or burning wrath were uppermost, I could not hesitate to put my hand in his as frankly as if I bade a friend farewell.

He grasped it very hard, and immediately put spurs to his horse and galloped away.
Very soon after, I learned that he was gone to Paris, where he still is; and the longer he stays there the better for me.
I thank God for this deliverance!.