Chapter IVAt the train station, there was the usual scene, the parting after the end of a holiday in the mountains, hands shaken again and again, impatient exclamations, promises to write and to visit. The entire hotel had gathered to say goodbye to Madame Bonneau and they were all circling noisily around her as she stood alone, composed, vaguely intimidated by their effusiveness, a little troubled for not being able to match their excitement. She stroked Nicolle and gave precise answers to imprecise questions.
In a corner of the platform, Marc was talking animatedly to Renée Rey and, observing them, Ştefan Valeriu wondered for the first time if anything had happened between them which he, absorbed in his own fantasies, might have missed. But the thought only preoccupied him for a second,
