The horns were not sounding any longer, and the tired hounds were
sleeping in the kennels. "Let us return," the young woman said, and they
went back.

When they got to the château and before they went in, she said in a weak
voice: "I am so tired that I shall go to bed, my friend." And as he
opened his arms for a last kiss, she ran away, saying as a last good-bye:
"No.... I am going to sleep.... Let him who loves me follow me!"

An hour later, when the whole silent château seemed dead; the baron
crept stealthily out of his room, and went and scratched at her door,
and as she did not reply, he tried to open it, and found that it was not
locked.

She was in a reverie, resting her arms against the window ledge, and he
threw himself at her knees, which he kissed madly, through the
nightdress. She said nothing, but buried her delicate fingers
caressingly in his hair, and suddenly, as if she had formed some great
resolution, she whispered with her daring look: "I shall come back, wait
for me." And stretching out her hand, she pointed with her finger to an
indistinct white spot at the end of the room; it was her bed.

Then, with trembling hands and scarcely knowing what he was doing, he
quickly undressed, got into the cool sheets, and stretching himself out
comfortably, he almost forgot his love in the pleasure he found, tired
out as he was, in the contact of the linen. She did not return, however,
no doubt finding amusement in making him languish. He closed his eyes
with a feeling of exquisite comfort, and reflected peaceably while
waiting for what he so ardently longed for. But by degrees his limbs
grew languid and his thoughts became indistinct and fleeting, until his