He was far from sure that he had succeeded.

He went to bed in another room, and was soon asleep.
He was waked in the very early morning by feeling a face against his, wet, trembling.
"What is it, Andree ?" he asked.

Her arms ran round his neck.
"Oh, mon amour! Mon adore! Je t'aime! Je t'aime!" In the evening of this day she said she knew not how it was, but on that first evening in Audierne there suddenly came to her a strange terrible feeling, which seemed to dry up all the springs of her desire for him.
She could not help it.

She had fought against it, but it was no use; yet she knew that she could not leave him.

After he had told her to go, she had had a bitter struggle: now tears, now anger, and a wish to hate.