were suggestive of fine lace,
the light filtered like impalpable sunny dust. And from the vaulted roof
hung stray branches, chandeliers, as it were, thick clusters suspended
from green thread-like stems, armfuls of flowers that reached to the
ground, athwart some rent in the leafy ceiling, which trailed around
like a tattered curtain.

Albine meanwhile was gazing at Serge asleep. She had never seen him so
utterly prostrated in body as now, his hands lying open on the turf, his
face deathly. So dead indeed he was to her that she thought she could
kiss his face without his even feeling it. And sadly, absently, she
busied her hands with shredding all the roses within her reach. Above
her head drooped an enormous cluster which brushed against her hair, set
roses on her twisted locks, her ears, her neck, and even threw a mantle
of the fragrant flowers across her shoulders. Higher up, under
her fingers, other roses rained down with large and tender petals
exquisitely formed, which in hue suggested the faintly flushing purity
of a maiden's bosom. Like a living snowfall these roses already hid her
feet in the grass. And they climbed her knees, covered her skirt,
and smothered her to her waist; while three stray petals, which had
fluttered on to her bodice, just above her bosom, there looked like
three glimpses of her bewitching skin.

'Oh! the lazy fellow!' she murmured, feeling bored and picking up two
handfuls of roses, which she flung in Serge's face to wake him.

He did not stir, however, but still lay there with the roses on his eyes
and mouth. This made Albine laugh. She stooped down, and with her whole
heart kissed both his eyes and his mouth, blowing as she kissed to drive
the rose petals away; but they remained upon his lips, and she broke
into still louder laughter, intensely amused at this flowery caressing.

Serge slowly raised himself. He gazed at her with amazement, as if
startled at finding her there.

'Who are you? where do you come from? what are you doing here beside
me?' he asked her. And still she smiled, transported with delight
at marking this awakening of his senses. Then he seemed to remember
something, and continued with a gesture of happy confidence:

'I know, you are my love, flesh of my flesh, you are waiting for me that
we may be one for ever. I was dreaming of you. You were in my breast,
and I gave you my blood, my muscles, my bones. I felt no pain. You took
half my heart so tenderly that I e