almost explicit an invitation to solicit the charming honour of her
hand. He blushed to the roots of his hair and jumped up with
uncontrollable alacrity; then, dropping a glance at Madame Clairin, who
sat watching him with hard eyes over the thin edge of her smile,
perceived on her brow a flash of unforgiving wrath. It was not pleasing
in itself, but his eyes lingered a moment, for it seemed to show off her
character. What he saw in the picture frightened him and he felt himself
murmur "Poor Madame de Mauves!" His departure was abrupt, and this time
he really went into the forest and lay down on the grass.

After which he admired his young countrywoman more than ever; her
intrinsic clearness shone out to him even through the darker shade cast
over it. At the end of a month he received a letter from a friend with
whom he had arranged a tour through the Low Countries, reminding him of
his promise to keep their tryst at Brussels. It was only after his
answer was posted that he fully measured the zeal with which he had
declared that the journey must either be deferred or abandoned--since he
couldn't possibly leave Saint-Germain. He took a walk in the forest and
asked himself if this were indeed portentously true. Such a truth
somehow made it surely his duty to march straight home and put together
his effects. Poor Webster, who, he knew, had counted ardently on this
excursion, was the best of men; six weeks ago he would have gone through
anything to join poor Webster. It had never been in his books to throw
overboard a friend whom he had loved ten years for a married woman whom
he had six weeks--well, admired. It was certainly beyond question that
he hung on at Saint-Germain because this admirable married woman was
there; but in the midst of so much admiration what had become of his
fine old power to conclude? This was the conduct of a man not judging
but drifting, and he had pretended never to drift. If she were as
unhappy as he believed the active sympathy of such a man would help her