At last, after pacing back and forth in front of Fanny's door for nearly an hour, gazing at those of her windows which were lighted, he decided to go away when the lights went out.
"I wish to-morrow were here," he thought.
Gustave did not close his eyes that night; where is the lover who could sleep, in his position? Only a lover who is not in love. At eight o'clock, the young man went down to the office, where there were as yet no clerks; but he found his uncle, who was always at his desk early.
"The deuce!" said Monsieur Grandcourt; "you're on hand in good season! Was it love of work that woke you?"
"Yes, uncle; I have some accounts to look over."
"How pale you look, and exhausted! One would say that you had been up all night."
"I'll wager that you didn't sleep. Is there anything new in your love affair?"
"Your dear Fanny hasn't played you some new trick?"
"Ah! uncle, at the point we have reached----"
"When a woman has made a fool of a man once, she will make a fool of him again--she will always do it! However, it would be better before marriage than after. Come and breakfast with me."
"It's too early, uncle; I am not hungry. By the way, have you thought about Arthur?"
"Arthur Cherami; a good, honest fellow who is looking for a place."
"Ah! your tall swashbuckler, who has such a scampish look--always ready to fly at you? Upon my word, you are not fortunate in your friendships! What sort of a place do you suppose anyone would give to that fellow? He doesn't inspire the slightest confidence in me. He was rich once, and he squandered his whole property: a fine recommendation!"
"I believe that you judge him too harshly. A man may have done foolish things, and have turned over a new leaf. With you, uncle, repentance counts for nothing."
"Repentance has one great defect in my eyes: it never comes till after the wrong-doing. If a man could repent before he went wrong, that is to say, stop before he fell, then I should have a much higher opinion of repentance. Well, where are you going? leaving the office already?"
Gustave could not keep still. He left the office, and ran all the way to Fanny's house; then stopped and looked at his watch. It was barely nine o'clock; impossible to call upon her so early. The young man walked up Faubourg Poissonnière and kept on past the barrier; little he cared where he went, so long as the time passed. Suddenly he ran into a tree, which his complete absorption in his thoughts had prevented his seeing. At that, he halted and looked about him, and was surprised to find that he was in the open country. But he felt that the air was keener and purer there, that it refreshed the mind and calmed the beating of the heart; and he sat down at the foot of the tree. He breathed more freely, he felt sensibly relieved. Ah! what a skilful physician the air is, and what marvellous cures we owe to it!