t days of the second week, Marius was seated on his
bench, as usual, holding in his hand an open book, of which he had not
turned a page for the last two hours. All at once he started. An event
was taking place at the other extremity of the walk. Leblanc and his
daughter had just left their seat, and the daughter had taken her
father's arm, and both were advancing slowly, towards the middle of the
alley where Marius was. Marius closed his book, then opened it again,
then forced himself to read; he trembled; the aureole was coming
straight towards him. "Ah! good Heavens!" thought he, "I shall not have
time to strike an attitude." Still the white-haired man and the girl
advanced. It seemed to him that this lasted for a century, and that it
was but a second. "What are they coming in this direction for?" he asked
himself. "What! She will pass here? Her feet will tread this sand, this
walk, two paces from me?" He was utterly upset, he would have liked to
be very handsome, he would have liked to own the cross. He heard the
soft and measured sound of their approaching footsteps. He imagined that
M. Leblanc was darting angry glances at him. "Is that gentleman going to
address me?" he thought to himself. He dropped his head; when he raised
it again, they were very near him. The young girl passed, and as she
passed, she glanced at him. She gazed steadily at him, with a pensive
sweetness which thrilled Marius from head to foot. It seemed to him
that she was reproaching him for having allowed so long a time to elapse
without coming as far as her, and that she was saying to him: "I am
coming myself." Marius was dazzled by those eyes fraught with rays and
abysses.

He felt his brain on fire. She had come to him, what joy! And then, how
she had looked at him! She appeared to him more beautiful than he had
ever seen her yet. Beautiful with a beauty which was wholly feminine and
angelic, with a complete beauty which would have made Petrarch sing and
Dante kneel. It seemed to him that he was floating free in the azure
heavens. At the same time, he was horribly vexed because there was dust
on his boots.

He thought he felt sure that she had looked at his boots too.

He followed her with his eyes until she disappeared. Then he started
up and walked about the Luxembourg garden like a madman. It is possible
that, at times, he laughed to himself and talked aloud. He was so dreamy
when he came near the children's nurses, that each one of the