The walls, covered with a green linen
material, bore no traces of damp. The surfaces of the rustic wooden
furniture shone with cleanliness. A kitten, attracted by the odor of
milk, had established itself upon the table; it allowed Pauline to
bedabble it in coffee; she was playing merrily with it, taking away
the cream that she had just allowed the kitten to sniff at, so as to
exercise its patience, and keep up the contest. She burst out laughing
at every antic, and by the comical remarks she constantly made, she
hindered Raphael from perusing the paper; he had dropped it a dozen
times already. This morning picture seemed to overflow with
inexpressible gladness, like everything that is natural and genuine.
Raphael, still pretending to read his paper, furtively watched Pauline
with the cat--his Pauline, in the dressing-gown that hung carelessly
about her; his Pauline, with her hair loose on her shoulders, with a
tiny, white, blue-veined foot peeping out of a velvet slipper. It was
pleasant to see her in this negligent dress; she was delightful as
some fanciful picture by Westall; half-girl, half-woman, as she seemed
to be, or perhaps more of a girl than a woman, there was no alloy in
the happiness she enjoyed, and of love she knew as yet only its first
ecstasy.
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