Her features were regular without being bold, and were softened by a crown of blond hair of blended shades, so thick that combs could with difficulty restrain it. And her eyes, which had been so large before, seemed to me to have grown even larger. It seemed as if the whole sky had sought to enter into them. Had I seen her again in the woods, she would have appeared to me like a huntress, more quickly frightened than the hunted game. I have often searched my memory, in order to defend myself against the fault with which I feel charged, for any physical symptoms which at that time might have foretold the shortness of her life. I cannot recall any. Though the doctors were not able to discover the origin of that strange malady which, after having long sapped her strength, at last carried her away, I, I know whence it came, and I know too that it was not her body that was first attacked. During our separation I had almost avoided going back to her even in my thought. What with superficial occupation, sport, travel and some sensual indulgence, ordinarily one is fairly successful in suppressing such a fancy. The instant I saw her again, however, my love revived. Had I imprisoned her in the chateau of the Sleeping Woods, and was she only awaiting my return? * * * The summer which I spent on my estate was warm and stormy. The forest offered us its freshness, its sheltered nooks, its peace. But why was it that we did not resume our rides? My superintendent evaded any reply to my suggestions. He had devoted more time than I to observing the external attractions of his daughter. To her I spoke only with the most scrupulous deference, for the most part in the presence of her parents, only occasionally when we met alone, these meetings having now become rare. Her clear eyes remained inscrutable to me. Why was it that she did not realise I loved her? And if she did realise it, why did she give no evidence of her joy and gratitude?