yes, youthful still,
had recovered their brightness, his features their smiling grace; while
his white hair and beard grew thicker, in a leonine abundance which
lent him a youthful air. He had kept himself, in his solitary life as a
passionate worker, so free from vice and dissipation that he found now
within him a reserve of life and vigor eager to expend itself at last.
There awoke within him new energy, a youthful impetuosity that broke
forth in gestures and exclamations, in a continual need of expansion, of
living. Everything wore a new and enchanting aspect to him; the smallest
glimpse of sky moved him to wonder; the perfume of a simple flower threw
him into an ecstasy; an everyday expression of affection, worn by use,
touched him to tears, as if it had sprung fresh from the heart and had
not been hackneyed by millions of lips. Clotilde's "I love you," was
an infinite caress, whose celestial sweetness no human being had ever
before known. And with health and beauty he recovered also his gaiety,
that tranquil gaiety which had formerly been inspired by his love of
life, and which now threw sunshine over his love, over everything that
made life worth living.

They two, blooming youth and vigorous maturity, so healthy, so gay,
so happy, made a radiant couple. For a whole month they remained in
seclusion, not once leaving La Souleiade. The place where both now liked
to be was the spacious workroom, so intimately associated with their
habits and their past affection. They would spend whole days there,
scarcely working at all, however. The large carved oak press remained
with closed doors; so, too, did the bookcases. Books and papers lay
undisturbed upon the tables. Like a young married couple they were
absorbed in their one passion, oblivious of their former occupations,
oblivious of life. The hours seemed all too short to enjoy the charm of
being together, often seated in the same large antique easy-chair, happy
in the depths of this solitude in which they secluded themselves, in
the tranquillity of this lofty room, in this domain which was altogether
theirs, without luxury and without order, full of familiar objects,
brightened from morning till night by the returning gaiety of the April
sunshine. When, seized with remorse, he would talk about working, she
would link her supple arms through his and laughingly hold him prisoner,
so that he should not make himself ill again with overwork. And
downstairs, they loved, too,