"May 4th: I was not able to see her until rather late in the evening. I scarcely belonged to myself. At table I saw her from a distance flirting with her neighbor, whose clean-shaven face appeared insignificant to me, despite the reflected honor of aristocratic family. "She was wearing a mauve dress, that pinky mauve which recalls the shade of fading hydrangea. As when she walked, all the lines of her body seemed to enjoy their freedom. A strap which passed over the shoulder left its curve bare. I believed her to be slighter. Her complexion, a delicate flesh-color, slightly bronzed, as if caressed by the heat of the sun, harmonized perfectly with the delicate mauve of her gown. "Yesterday, although I had recognized her directly--she is so individual--it was from a motive of politeness that I said she looked as she did ten years ago. This evening she is as young as at the time of my visits to the Castle of Saint Ismier. It is true that at Saint Ismier, I scarcely noticed her. With what was I then occupied? How interesting to find on another's face, after ten years, lines of having lived, and how consoling to recognize thereon the power of youth! However, she has changed. Down there she passed for an independent, bold young girl, eager for all extremes of feeling and thought--Now, I find in her more reserve, a feminine grace, and that indefinable expression seen in those for whom life has its depths--and whose confidence must be slowly gained--For her narrow eyes have long lashes to shield their vague expression: those eyes in which Philippe Lagier (who was mad about them) believed he saw golden flashes.