light enters timidly, in a thousand broken little shafts;
on the table, the books still lie as I placed them; on the
chimney-shelf, the flowers, withered by the heat of the fire, are fading
and drooping.

All these things which had been left untouched were evidence of a
lethargy that hurt me. All the emotions which I had been picturing Rose
as experiencing since the day before had not so much as brushed against
her. One by one, they dropped back sadly upon my heart.

I rose, moved the flowers, opened the window; and the bright sunshine
restored my confidence.

"Come, darling, dress and let's go out."

A thousand questions come crowding to my lips while I help her do her
hair:

"Do they look after you well? Do you feel very lonely? What are the
other boarders like? Are any of them interesting?"

Her answers, sensible and placid as usual, did not tell me much, except
that the food was good, that she had slept well and that she was very
comfortable.

I resolved to wait a few days before asking her any more.

2

Roseline throws off her wrap and begins dressing. The water trickles
from the sponge which she squeezes over her shoulders, runs down,
lingers here and there and disappears along the flowing lines of her
body, which, in the broad daylight, looks as though it were flooded with
diamonds. A cool fragrance mingles with the scent of the roses. The room
is filled with beauty.

CHAPTER V

1

It snowed last night for the first time; then it froze; and the trees in
the Tuileries are now showing the white lines of their branches against
a dreary sky. The daylight seems all the duller by comparison with the
glitter of the snow-covered ground.... I slowly follow the little black
path made by the sweepers; I receive an impression of solitude; the
streets are very still; it is as though sick people lay behind the
closed windows; and the voices of the children playing as I pass seem to
come to me through invisible curtains.

Rose is walking beside me. A keen wind plasters our dresses against us
and raises them behind into dark, waving banners. The icy air whitens
the fine pattern of our veils against our mouth.

"Where are we going?" asks Rose.

I hesitate a little before replying:

"We are going to the Louvre."

And to put her at her ease and also to guard against a probable
disappointment, I hasten to add:

"It is a picture-book which we will look at together. You will turn
first to what is br