chel!" she cried.

She stretched out her arms, hesitated, and for a few seconds remained
motionless as light, with her full gaze upon him.

Then, in spite of where she was and the purity of her heart and the
chastity of her whole life, her legs shook and she was on the verge of
falling over.

He threw his hat on the bed with a sweeping romantic gesture. He
filled the room with his presence, with his weight. His footsteps made
the floor creak. He kept her from falling. Tall as she was, he was a
whole head taller. His marked features were hard and remarkably fine.
His face under a heavy head of black hair was bright and clean, as
though new. He had a drooping moustache and full red lips.

He put his hands on the young woman's shoulders, and looked at her, in
readiness for his eager embrace.

They held each other close, staggering. They said the same word at the
same time, "At last!" That was all they said, but they said it over
and over again in a low voice, chanting it together. Their eyes
uttered the same sweet cry. Their breasts communicated it to each
other. It seemed to be tying them together and making them merge into
one. At last! Their long separation was over. Their love was victor.
At last they were together. And I saw her quiver from head to foot. I
saw her whole body welcome him while her eyes opened and then closed on
him again. They made a great effort to speak to each other. The few
shreds of conversation held them back a moment.

"How I waited for you! How I longed for you!" he stammered. "I
thought of you all the time. I saw you all the time. Your smile was
everywhere." He lowered his voice and added, "Sometimes when people
were talking commonplaces and your name happened to be mentioned, it
would go through my heart like an electric current."

He panted. His deep voice burst into sonorous tones. He seemed unable
to speak low.

"Often I used to sit on the brick balustrade at the top of the terrace
of our house overlooking the Channel, with my face in my hands,
wondering where you were. But it did not matter how far away you were,
I could not help seeing you all the same."

"And often I," said Anna, bending her head, "would sit at the open
window warm evenings, thinking of you. Sometimes the air was of a
suffocating sweetness, as it was two months ago at the Villa of the
Roses. Tears would come to my eyes."

"You used to cry?"

"Yes," she said in a low voice, "for