rds. But it appeared too soon yet; and it was I, alas,
I who had the best part of her happiness! My eyes fell on her chapped
and swollen hands. She noticed it and murmured, sadly:

"It's the beetroots. You understand, it's the hard season now."

"But the beetroot-days are past, my Roseline! The bad seasons are over,
over for good, over for good and all!"

And I laid stress on every syllable; and, though I was whispering in her
ear, I heard the words "for good and all" bursting from my lips like a
triumphant shout.

She smiled and went on eating, doing her best to eat nicely, with her
elbows close to her sides and her hands by her plate. Heaven above, did
she understand what I said?

4

There are some people who seem detached from themselves. They do
something; and the whole flood of their life does not surge into the
action! They draw near to the object of their love; and their whole soul
does not fill their eyes! Their soul is not on their lips, to breathe
love; it is not at their finger-tips, to seize upon happiness; it is not
there to watch life, to attract all that passes, eagerly, greedily and
rapturously! Then where is it and what is it doing outside this dear,
delightful earth?...

And yet woman, the creature who learns through love the admirable gift
of life, knows better than man how to throw the whole of herself into
fleeting moments. She lives nearer to the edge of her actions. Her mind,
which rarely attaches itself to abstract things, seems to float around
her in search of every sensation. Woman passes and has seen everything;
she remembers and she quivers as though the caressing touch were still
upon her. Her light and charming soul drinks eternity straight out of
the present; and through a man's kisses she has known the art of
absolute oblivion.

I am afraid that Rose is not much of a woman. Ah, were I in her place, I
should be wild with excitement, out of my mind with joy, as though I
were hearing my own name spoken for the first time!

5

After lunch, our shopping was a difficult matter. Rose, with her
uncommon figure, could hardly find anything ready-made to suit her. I
had to hunt about and to contrive with thought, for I would not wait a
single day. I was careful to select the quietest and most usual things
for her, so as to conceal her rusticity as far as possible. The neat
dark-velvet toque could have its position altered on her head without
much harm. The black veil would tone down