On the contrary I was all impatience and desire. I imagined in advance Raymonde’s joy on learning that among all others I had chosen her for my wife. I wished to be the only one to see her transfigured face. Without any fear of reversing the convention I intended to speak to her first, in order the better to enjoy her surprise. Later I would speak to her parents, who would be only too happy to consent to so brilliant a match! Such was the arrangement I determined upon. Chance favoured me after I had spent several days in a vain attempt to arrange so important an interview. I had asked Mme. Mairieux, of whom I knew I could easily dispose, at the opportune moment, to come to the chateau, to help me with some household arrangements with which I was not satisfied. I hoped that Raymonde would accompany her. However, she came without her mother. Less perspicacious than her husband, Mme. Mairieux kept no supervision over her daughter’s actions. Besides, did not Raymonde’s own dignity protect her sufficiently? I looked upon her with an intoxication of delight, but how can I depict what I felt? I looked at her as a sovereign at his subject, as an Ahasuerus upon an Esther. My imagination dwelt lovingly upon the dream that she was about to realise through me. She was coming to me who awaited her. In a few moments she would learn of her good fortune. It seemed to me that I could already hear her heart beat. It would beat like that of the pigeon which I had once wounded while hunting. I had picked it up in my hands and felt its warm life as I caressed it, the warm life that was ebbing away. After we had settled the details in question I suggested that we look over the chateau. “It is strange,” I said, “that you have never visited it. Would you like to?” “Very much,” she replied. We began our inspection of the salon and the galleries. I opened the doors for the young girl and showed her the pictures and the furniture, while she listened attentively to my small remarks. She wore, I remember, a dress of white serge, touching in its simplicity, and rather clumsily cut, which, however, did not succeed in concealing the slender lines of her figure. The plain dress seemed to match the frankness of her face and the peace of her eyes. Outside it was one of those September days whose close one dreads, for fear that on the morrow one may not find its equal. After our little expedition was over and she was about to leave, I stopped her: “Would you enjoy living here, Mlle. Raymonde?” She turned her calm eyes to me. “Our lodge satisfies me,” she said. So then I should have to dazzle her with one stroke, in spite of my desire to drink in her emotion slowly and in little swallows. She would not guess. Not to lose anything of the agitation she was about to feel I looked her full in the face, as I went on: “You will leave your lodge some day.” She was astonished and even showed some anxiety. “Our lodge? When?” “When you marry.”--