Then he looked at her and he felt an unsurpassable abyss between them.  She beat the grass with her parasol, her head slightly inclined, contemplating her feet and singing, spinning out the notes, attempting trills, and venturing on shakes.  Her smooth little brow, of which he was so fond, was at that time absolutely empty! empty!  There was nothing therein but this music of a bird-organ; and the ideas which formed there by chance were like this music.  She did not understand anything of him; they were now separated as if they did not live together.  Did then his kisses never go any further than her lips?

Then she raised her eyes to him and laughed again.  He was moved to the quick and, extending his arms in a paroxysm of love, he embraced her passionately.

As he was rumpling her dress she ended by disengaging herself, murmuring by way of compensation as she did so: 

“Go; I love you well, my puss.”

But he seized her by the waist and seized by madness, carried her rapidly away.  He kissed her on the cheek, on the temple, on the neck, all the while dancing with joy.  They threw themselves down panting at the edge of a thicket, lit up by the rays of the setting sun, and before they had recovered breath they became friends again without her understanding his transport.

They returned, holding each other by the hand, when suddenly, across the trees, they perceived on the river, the canoe manned by the four women.  The large Pauline also saw them, for she drew herself up and blew kisses to Madeleine.  And then she cried: 

“Until to-night!”

Madeleine replied: 

“Until to-night!”

Paul believed he suddenly felt his heart enveloped in ice.

They re-entered the house for dinner.

They installed themselves in one of the arbors, close to the water, and set about eating in silence.  When night arrived, they brought a candle inclosed in a glass globe, which lit them up with a feeble and glimmering light; and they heard every moment the bursting out of the shouts of the boatmen in the great saloon on the first floor.

Towards dessert, Paul, taking Madeleine’s hand, tenderly said to her: 

“I feel very tired, my darling; unless you have any objection, we will go to bed early.”

She, however, understood the ruse, and shot an enigmatical glance at him, that glance of treachery which so readily appears at the bottom of a woman’s eyes.  Then having reflected she answered: 

“You can go to bed if you wish, but I have promised to go to the ball at La Grenonillere.”

He smiled in a piteous manner, one of those smiles with which one veils the most horrible suffering, but he replied in a coaxing but agonized tone: 

“If you were very kind, we should remain here, both of us.”

She indicated no with her head, without opening her mouth.

He insisted: