THE PEAK OF THE LOAD
have money. Wasn't history repeating itself? It was already taking three and sometimes four days to get a letter into Paris, and almost as many to get one out. That meant that it would take nearly a week to get money by mail, and communications might be cut at any minute. Besides, Amélie was quite right on one point—it might be prudent for me to have a trunk in Paris, so that, in case we were ordered out, I could at least find clean clothes at the end of my voyage.
Finally I cut the argument short.
"All right, Amélie," I said. "I'll go up to Paris. But I shall come right back as soon as I get some money, see how things really are in Paris, and leave my trunk."
"Good," said Amélie, jumping up. "Pack the trunk at once. There is a train at five. I'll harness in an hour. That will give you time enough, and we must allow for the crowd on the road."
I protested that the next morning would do, but she insisted that it was possible that the next morning I might not be able to get away. I didn't believe it, but, in the end, I took the five-o'clock train—that was day before yesterday, the day on which I last wrote to you.
We started away silently, except that I assured every one who came out to say good-bye to me that there was no good-bye, as I was coming back, surely no later than Monday. But as we drove across the Chemin Madame I was surprised to find that Amélie was crying, a thing she rarely does.
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