When the curtain fell, I followed him to the
foyer; I do not know that he saw me coming, but he hastened away and
entered a box. I determined to wait until he should come out, and stood
looking at the box for fifteen minutes. At last, he appeared. I bowed and
approached him. He hesitated a moment, then turned and disappeared down a
stairway.
My desire to speak to him had been too evident to admit of any other
explanation than deliberate intention to avoid me on his part. He surely
knew my face, and whether he knew it or not, a man who sees another
approaching him, ought, at least, to wait for him. We were the only ones
in the corridor at the time and there could be no doubt he did not wish
to speak to me. I did not dream of such impertinent treatment from a man,
whom I had cordially received at my apartments; why should he insult me?
He could have no other excuse than a desire to avoid an awkward
interview, during which questions might be asked, which he did not care
to answer. But why? This second mystery troubled me almost as much as the
first. Although I tried to drive the thought from my head, that young
man's action in avoiding me seemed to have some connection with
Brigitte's obstinate silence.
Uncertainty is of all torments, the most difficult to endure, and during
my life I have exposed myself to many dangers because I could not wait
patiently. When I returned to my apartments, I found Brigitte reading
those same fateful letters from N-----.
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