Sheinsisted，however，onhistakingatleastthechain，andLheureuxhadalreadyputitinhispocketandwasgoing，whenshecalledhimback。
　　“Youwillleaveeverythingatyourplace。Astothecloak“——sheseemedtobereflecting——“donotbringiteither；youcangivemethemaker’saddress，andtellhimtohaveitreadyforme。“
　　Itwasthenextmonththattheyweretorunaway。ShewastoleaveYonvilleasifshewasgoingonsomebusinesstoRouen。
　　Rodolphewouldhavebookedtheseats，procuredthepassports，andevenhavewrittentoParisinordertohavethewholemail-coachreservedforthemasfarasMarseilles，wheretheywouldbuyacarriage，andgoonthencewithoutstoppingtoGenoa。ShewouldtakecaretosendherluggagetoLheureuxwhenceitwouldbetakendirecttothe“Hirondelle，“sothatnoonewouldhaveanysuspicion。Andinallthisthereneverwasanyallusiontothechild。Rodolpheavoidedspeakingofher；perhapshenolongerthoughtaboutit。
　　Hewishedtohavetwomoreweeksbeforehimtoarrangesomeaffairs；thenattheendofaweekhewantedtwomore；thenhesaidhewasill；nexthewentonajourney。ThemonthofAugustpassed，and，afterallthesedelays，theydecidedthatitwastobeirrevocablyfixedforthe4thSeptember——aMonday。
　　AtlengththeSaturdaybeforearrived。
　　Rodolphecameintheeveningearlierthanusual。
　　“Everythingisready？“sheaskedhim。
　　“Yes。“
　　Thentheywalkedroundagarden-bed，andwenttositdownneartheterraceonthekerb-stoneofthewall。
　　“Youaresad，“saidEmma。
　　“No；why？“
　　Andyethelookedatherstrangelyinatenderfashion。
　　“Itisbecauseyouaregoingaway？“shewenton；“becauseyouareleavingwhatisdeartoyou——yourlife？Ah!Iunderstand。Ihavenothingintheworld!youarealltome；soshallIbetoyou。I
　　willbeyourpeople，yourcountry；Iwilltend，Iwillloveyou!“
　　“Howsweetyouare!“hesaid，seizingherinhisarms。
　　“Really!“shesaidwithavoluptuouslaugh。“Doyouloveme？
　　Swearitthen!“
　　“DoIloveyou——loveyou？Iadoreyou，mylove。“
　　Themoon，fullandpurple-coloured，wasrisingrightoutoftheearthattheendofthemeadow。Sherosequicklybetweenthebranchesofthepoplars，thathidherhereandtherelikeablackcurtainpiercedwithholes。Thensheappeareddazzlingwithwhitenessintheemptyheavensthatshelitup，andnowsailingmoreslowlyalong，letfallupontheriveragreatstainthatbrokeupintoaninfinityofstars；andthesilversheenseemedtowrithethroughtheverydepthslikeaheedlessserpentcoveredwithluminousscales；italsoresembledsomemonstercandelabraallalongwhichsparkleddropsofdiamondsrunningtogether。Thesoftnightwasaboutthem；massesofshadowfilledthebranches。
　　Emma，hereyeshalfclosed，breathedinwithdeepsighsthefreshwindthatwasblowing。Theydidnotspeak，lostastheywereintherushoftheirreverie。Thetendernessoftheolddayscamebacktotheirhearts，fullandsilentastheflowingriver，withthesoftnessoftheperfumeofthesyringas，andthrewacrosstheirmemoriesshadowsmoreimmenseandmoresombrethanthoseofthestillwillowsthatlengthenedoutoverthegrass。Oftensomenight-animal，hedgehogorweasel，settingoutonthehunt，disturbedthelovers，orsometimestheyheardaripepeachfallingallalonefromtheespalier。
　　“Ah!whatalovelynight!“saidRodolphe。
　　“Weshallhaveothers，“repliedEmma；and，asifspeakingtoherself：“Yet，itwillbegoodtotravel。Andyet，whyshouldmyheartbesoheavy？Isitdreadoftheunknown？Theeffectofhabitsleft？Orrather——？No；itistheexcessofhappiness。HowweakIam，amInot？Forgiveme!“
　　“Thereisstilltime!“hecried。“Reflect!perhapsyoumayrepent!“
　　“Never!“shecriedimpetuously。Andcomingclosertohim：“Whatillcouldcometome？Thereisnodesert，noprecipice，nooceanIwouldnottraversewithyou。Thelongerwelivetogetherthemoreitwillbelikeanembrace，everydaycloser，morehearttoheart。Therewillbenothingtotroubleus，nocares，noobstacle。Weshallbealone，alltoourselveseternally。Oh，speak!Answerme!“
　　Atregularintervalsheanswered，“Yes——Yes——“Shehadpassedherhandsthroughhishair，andsherepeatedinachildlikevoice，despitethebigtearswhichwerefalling，“Rodolphe!Rodolphe!
　　Ah!Rodolphe!dearlittleRodolphe!“
　　Midnightstruck。
　　“Midnight!“saidshe。“Come，itisto-morrow。Onedaymore!“
　　Herosetogo；andasifthemovementhemadehadbeenthesignalfortheirflight，Emmasaid，suddenlyassumingagayair——
　　“Youhavethepassports？“
　　“Yes。“
　　“Youareforgettingnothing？“
　　“No。“
　　“Areyousure？“
　　“Certainly。“
　　“ItisattheHoteldeProvence，isitnot，thatyouwillwaitformeatmidday？“
　　Henodded。
　　“Tillto-morrowthen!“saidEmmainalastcaress；andshewatchedhimgo。
　　Hedidnotturnround。Sheranafterhim，and，leaningoverthewater’sedgebetweenthebulrushes“To-morrow!“shecried。
　　Hewasalreadyontheothersideoftheriverandwalkingfastacrossthemeadow。
　　AfterafewmomentsRodolphestopped；andwhenhesawherwithherwhitegowngraduallyfadeawayintheshadelikeaghost，hewasseizedwithsuchabeatingoftheheartthatheleantagainstatreelestheshouldfall。
　　“WhatanimbecileIam!“hesaidwithafearfuloath。“Nomatter!
　　Shewasaprettymistress!“
　　AndimmediatelyEmma’sbeauty，withallthepleasuresoftheirlove，camebacktohim。Foramomenthesoftened；thenherebelledagainsther。
　　“For，afterall，“heexclaimed，gesticulating，“Ican’texilemyself——haveachildonmyhands。“
　　Hewassayingthesethingstogivehimselffirmness。
　　“Andbesides，theworry，theexpense!Ah!no，no，no，no!athousandtimesno!Thatwouldbetoostupid。“
　　ChapterThirteenNosoonerwasRodolpheathomethanhesatdownquicklyathisbureauunderthestag’sheadthathungasatrophyonthewall。
　　Butwhenhehadthepenbetweenhisfingers，hecouldthinkofnothing，sothat，restingonhiselbows，hebegantoreflect。
　　Emmaseemedtohimtohaverecededintoafar-offpast，asiftheresolutionhehadtakenhadsuddenlyplacedadistancebetweenthem。
　　Togetbacksomethingofher，hefetchedfromthecupboardatthebedsideanoldRheimsbiscuit-box，inwhichheusuallykepthislettersfromwomen，andfromitcameanodourofdrydustandwitheredroses。Firsthesawahandkerchiefwithpalelittlespots。Itwasahandkerchiefofhers。Oncewhentheywerewalkinghernosehadbled；hehadforgottenit。Nearit，chippedatallthecorners，wasaminiaturegivenhimbyEmma：hertoiletteseemedtohimpretentious，andherlanguishinglookintheworstpossibletaste。Then，fromlookingatthisimageandrecallingthememoryofitsoriginal，Emma’sfeatureslittlebylittlegrewconfusedinhisremembrance，asifthelivingandthepaintedface，rubbingoneagainsttheother，hadeffacedeachother。
　　Finally，hereadsomeofherletters；theywerefullofexplanationsrelatingtotheirjourney，short，technical，andurgent，likebusinessnotes。Hewantedtoseethelongonesagain，thoseofoldtimes。Inordertofindthematthebottomofthebox，Rodolphedisturbedalltheothers，andmechanicallybeganrummagingamidstthismassofpapersandthings，findingpell-mellbouquets，garters，ablackmask，pins，andhair——hair!
　　darkandfair，someeven，catchinginthehingesofthebox，brokewhenitwasopened。
　　Thusdallyingwithhissouvenirs，heexaminedthewritingandthestyleoftheletters，asvariedastheirorthography。Theyweretenderorjovial，facetious，melancholy；thereweresomethataskedforlove，othersthataskedformoney。Awordrecalledfacestohim，certaingestures，thesoundofavoice；sometimes，however，herememberednothingatall。
　　Infact，thesewomen，rushingatonceintohisthoughts，crampedeachotherandlessened，asreducedtoauniformleveloflovethatequalisedthemall。Sotakinghandfulsofthemixed-upletters，heamusedhimselfforsomemomentswithlettingthemfallincascadesfromhisrightintohislefthand。Atlast，boredandweary，Rodolphetookbacktheboxtothecupboard，sayingtohimself，“Whatalotofrubbish!“Whichsummeduphisopinion；forpleasures，likeschoolboysinaschoolcourtyard，hadsotrampleduponhisheartthatnogreenthinggrewthere，andthatwhichpassedthroughit，moreheedlessthanchildren，didnoteven，likethem，leaveanamecarveduponthewall。