rsation, this dialogue without a
sentence, but so vivid and expressive, in the same breath childish and
profound; for they wished to show each other the inmost recesses of
their souls and they had nothing to do it with but two or three
elementary words. How pretty they were, the fair one dressed in red and
the other, who was dark, all in white, with camellias in the dusk of her
hair. They were not at all afraid of being frivolous and would linger
now and then to examine the filmy muslins and laces in which they were
arrayed.

The elder had already chosen her path, the younger was still seeking
hers; but the characters of both were alike matured and their minds
completely formed. Both of them in love and happy in their love, they
tried above all to express their tastes and ideas.

To understand each other, they employed a thousand ingenious means.
Their mobile faces eagerly questioned each other with the unconscious
boldness of children who meet for the first time. They took each other's
hands, looked at each other, read each other's features. At times, they
would make use of things around them: a light here, a shadow there,
people, objects. Once I saw the fair-haired one take up a Galle cup that
stood near. For a minute, she held her white arm up to the light; and
through her fingers the lovely thing seemed like a flash of crystallised
mist in which precious stones were shedding their last lustre.

I forget the various images, childish and subtle, by which she was able
to show her friend all her sensitive soul in that fragile cup. A little
later, there was some music; and the dark one sang while the fair one
accompanied her on the piano. Through the sounds and harmonies I heard
the perfect concord of those two lives, which had known nothing of each
other an hour or two before....

It was an exquisite lesson for me, a wonderful proof that women's souls
are able to love and unite more easily than men's, if they wish. And I
once again regretted the unhappy distrust that severs and disunites us,
whereas all our weaknesses interwoven might be garlands of strength and
love crowning the life of men.

3

By a natural trend of thought, Rose appeared to me contrasted with those
two rare creatures....

Rose is not sensitive and is not artistic. No doubt, when she left
school, she could play the piano correctly and likewise draw those
still-life studies and little landscapes by means of which the
principles of art and be