funereal
year! Dreaming with his eyes open and hardly knowing well whether he was
dreaming what he saw, or saw what he was dreaming, steeped in a greedy
languor obscurely happy, unhappy, in love, as much filled full of
tenderness as with the sun, he smiled as he strolled with inattentive
eyes, and without his knowing it his lips moved, reciting words without
connection, a song of some kind. He looked down at the sandy path and,
like the wingtip of a dove that passes, he had an impression that a
smile had just passed along. He whirled about and saw that he had just
crossed her path. And just at that moment, without stopping in her
walk, she turned her head with a smile in order to observe him. Then he
hesitated no longer and went toward her, his hands almost extended in so
juvenile and naive a rush that naively she waited for him. He made no
excuses for himself. There was no awkwardness between them. It seemed to
them they were continuing an interview already begun.

"You are laughing at me," said he; "you are quite right!"

"I'm not laughing at you"--(her voice like her step was lively and
supple)--"you were laughing all to yourself; I merely laughed at seeing
you."

"Was I laughing, really?"

"You are still laughing now."

"Now I know why."

She did not ask him what he meant. They walked side by side. They were
happy.

"What a jolly little sun!" said she.

"Newly born springtide!"

"Was it to him just now you were sending that little smile?"

"Not to him alone. Perhaps to you, too."

"Little liar! Bad boy. You don't even know me."

"As if one could say such a thing! We have seen each other I don't know
how often!"

"Thrice, counting this time."

"Ah--you remember, then? You see that we are old acquaintances!"

"Let's talk about it."

"I'm agreed. That's all I want!... Oh, come, let us sit there! Just an
instant, won't you please? It's so nice at the edge of the water!"

(They were near the Galathea Fountain, which the masons had covered over
with tarpaulins to protect it from the bombs.)

"I really can not, I shall miss my train."

She gave him the hour. He showed her that she had more than twenty-five
minutes.

Yes, but she wanted first to buy her lunch at the corner of Rue Racine,
where they keep good little buns. He hauled one out of his pocket.

"No better than this one.... Don't you really want to take it?..."

She laughed and hesitated. He put it in her hand and kept hold of her
hand