But he heard only the light flapping
of a little morning cap, tied to a branch of a lilac bush, as if it were
a bouquet, and which belonged to her.
From that date, each time that Angelique opened her window she saw
Felicien over there in the Clos-Marie. He passed days in the field,
having the chapel window as an excuse for doing so, on which, however,
the work did not advance the least in the world. For hours he would
forget himself behind a cluster of bushes, where, stretched out on
the grass, he watched through the leaves. And it was the greatest of
pleasures to smile at each other every morning and evening. She was
so happy that she asked for nothing more. There would not be another
general washing for three months, so, until then, the little garden-gate
would seldom be open. But three months would pass very quickly, and
if they could see each other daily, was not that bliss enough? What,
indeed, could be more charming than to live in this way, thinking during
the day of the evening look, and during the night of the glance of the
early morrow? She existed only in the hope of that desired moment; its
joy filled her life. Moreover, what good would there be in approaching
each other and in talking together? Were they not constantly becoming
better acquainted without meeting? Although at a distance, they
understood each other perfectly; each penetrated into the other's
innermost thoughts with the closest intimacy.
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