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?‰mile, 1840-1902

"The Dream"

What
perfect bliss it would be!
"Is it not better for me to take nothing? What good would it do in
reality?"
He, partaking of her feverishness, was already at the door, as he
replied:
"No, no! Take nothing whatever. Let us go at once."
"Yes, let us go. That is the best thing to do."
And she rejoined him. But she turned round, wishing to give a last
look at the chamber. The lamp was burning with the same soft light, the
bouquet of hydrangeas and hollyhocks was blooming as ever, and in her
work-frame the unfinished rose, bright and natural as life, seemed to
be waiting for her. But the room itself especially affected her. Never
before had it seemed so white and pure to her; the walls, the bed, the
air even, appeared as if filled with a clear, white breath.
Something within her wavered, and she was obliged to lean heavily
against the back of a chair that was near her and not far from the door.
"What is the matter?" asked Felicien anxiously.
She did not reply, but breathed with great difficulty. Then, seized with
a trembling, she could no longer bear her weight on her feet, but was
forced to sit down.
"Do not be anxious; it is nothing. I only want to rest for a minute and
then we will go.


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