The lovers had the room to themselves for a few moments.

Marie held out her ungloved hand to Raoul, who took and kissed it as though he were eighteen years old.
The eyes of the countess expressed so noble a tenderness that the tears which men of nervous temperament can always find at their service came into Raoul's eyes.
"Where can I see you?
where can I speak with you ?" he said.

"It is death to be forced to disguise my voice, my look, my heart, my love--" Moved by that tear Marie promised to drive daily in the Bois, unless the weather were extremely bad.

This promise gave Raoul more pleasure than he had found in Florine for the last five years.
"I have so many things to say to you! I suffer from the silence to which we are condemned--" The countess looked at him eagerly without replying, and at that moment Madame d'Espard returned to the room.
"Why didn't you answer de Marsay ?" she said as she entered.
"We ought to respect the dead," replied Raoul.

"Don't you see that he is dying?
Rastignac is his nurse,--hoping to be put in the will." The countess pretended to have other visits to pay, and left the house.
For this quarter of an hour Raoul had sacrificed important interests and most precious time.