“Pardon me, Captain Bluteau,” he resumed, after a long pause.  “For twelve years I have not uttered the name that is always hovering in my thoughts, that a voice calls in my hearing even when I sleep.  Evelina (since I have named her) raised her head with a strange quickness and abruptness, for about all her movements there was an instinctive grace and gentleness, and looked at me.  There was no pride in her face, but rather a wistful anxiety.  Then her color rose, and her eyelids fell; it gave me an indescribable pleasure never felt before that they should fall so slowly; I could only stammer out my reply in a faltering voice.  The emotion of my own heart made swift answer to hers.  She thanked me by a happy look, and I almost thought that there were tears in her eyes.  In that moment we had told each other everything.  So I went into the country with her family.  Since the day when our hearts had understood each other, nothing seemed to be as it had been before; everything about us had acquired a fresh significance.

“Love, indeed, is always the same, though our imagination determines the shape that love must assume; like and unlike, therefore, is love in every soul in which he dwells, and passion becomes a unique work in which the soul expresses its sympathies.  In the old trite saying that love is a projection of self—­an egoisme a deux—­lies a profound meaning known only to philosopher and poet; for it is ourself in truth that we love in that other.  Yet, though love manifests itself in such different ways that no pair of lovers since the world began is like any other pair before or since, they all express themselves after the same fashion, and the same words are on the lips of every girl, even of the most innocent, convent-bred maiden—­the only difference lies in the degree of imaginative charm in their ideas.  But between Evelina and other girls there was this difference, that where another would have poured out her feelings quite naturally, Evelina regarded these innocent confidences as a concession made to the stormy emotions which had invaded the quiet sanctuary of her girlish soul.  The constant struggle between her heart and her principles gave to the least event of her life, so peaceful in appearance, in reality so profoundly agitated, a character of force very superior to the exaggerations of young girls whose manners are early rendered false by the world about them.  All through the journey Evelina discovered beauty in the scenery through which we passed, and spoke of it with admiration.  When we think that we may not give expression to the happiness which is given to us by the presence of one we love, we pour out the secret gladness that overflows our hearts upon inanimate things, investing them with beauty in our happiness.  The charm of the scenery which passed before our eyes became in this way an interpreter between us, for in our praises of the landscape we revealed to each other the secrets of our love.  Evelina’s mother sometimes took a mischievous pleasure in disconcerting her daughter.