At last he said:
"I love you."
And she gently replied:
"I love you."
That was all, and he had in a moment, with the agility of a bird, gone
down the woodwork of the corner of the building, while she, remaining on
the balcony, leaned on the balustrade and watched him, with her tender,
beautiful eyes. She had taken the bouquet of violets and breathed the
perfume to cool her feverishness. When, in crossing the Clos-Marie, he
lifted his head, he saw that she was kissing the flowers.
Scarcely had Felicien disappeared behind the willows, when Angelique was
disturbed by hearing below the opening of the house-door. Four o'clock
had just struck, and no one was in the habit of getting up until two
hours later. Her surprise increased when she recognised Hubertine, as it
was always Hubert who went down the first. She saw her follow slowly the
walks of the narrow garden, her arms hanging listlessly at her sides, as
if, after a restless, sleepless night, a feeling of suffocating, a need
of breathing the fresh air, had made her leave her room so early. And
Hubertine was really very beautiful, with her clothes so hastily put on;
and she seemed very weary--happy, but in the deepest grief.
The morning of the next day, on waking from a sound sleep of eight
hours, one of those sweet, deep, refreshing sleeps that come after some
great happiness, Angelique ran to her window.
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