The hand which repelled me felt my heart beat. She struggled to get
away, but fell back overcome with tenderness. We talked together
through that silence in the language of thought. Nothing is more
rapturous than these mute conversations. Madame de T----- took refuge
in my arms, hid her head in my bosom, sighed and then grew calm under
my caresses. She grew melancholy, she was consoled, and she asked of
love all that love had robbed her of. The sound of the river broke the
silence of night with a gentle murmur, which seemed in harmony with
the beating of our hearts. Such was the darkness of the place it was
scarcely possible to discern objects; but through the transparent
crepe of a fair summer's night, the queen of that lovely place seemed
to me adorable.
"Oh!" she said to me with an angelic voice, "let us leave this
dangerous spot. Resistance here is beyond our strength."
She drew me away and we left the pavilion with regret.
"Ah! how happy is she!" cried Madame de T-----.
"Whom do you mean?" I asked.
"Did I speak?" said she with a look of alarm.
And then we reached the grassy bank, and stopped there involuntarily.
"What a distance there is," she said to me, "between this place and
the pavilion!"
"Yes indeed," said I. "But must this bank be always ominous? Is there
a regret? Is there--?"
I do not know by what magic it took place; but at this point the
conversation changed and became less serious.
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