ineffaceable mark
on her memory. But why not always admit the most charitable
construction?

3

I had been wandering a long time at random. Feeling a little tired, I
turned into the Parc Monceau, at the time when it was too late for the
mothers and babies and too early for the lovers' invasion. I sat down by
the transparent lake which so prettily reflects its diadem of arbours. A
young willow drooped in gentle sadness over the face of the water; and
white ducks glided past me in the evening mist. The waning blue light
mingled with the pale vapour that rises over Paris at nightfall; and all
this made a mauve sky behind the dark trees. It was soft and
melancholy, but not grave; and I lingered on, amid the beauty of the
scene, rapt in some woman's reverie. Then a lamp was lighted behind the
bench on which I sat; and on the ground before me I saw a shadow beside
my own. I understood and did not turn my head.

A man had followed me. I felt his eyes resting heavily on my profile, on
my cheek and on my ungloved hands. He was evidently going to speak.
Annoyed at this, I took a little volume from my pocket and, to protect
my solitude, began to read.

But soon I guessed that he was reading with me; and my mind thus
mingling with a stranger's passed over the words without quite following
them. His persistency angered me; and I closed the book.

Then he said to me:

"Yes, you are very beautiful."

The words fell into my soul with a disquieting resonance. I rose with a
flushed face and then hesitated. It was certainly one of those gross and
lying pieces of flattery which we all of us hear at times. Nevertheless,
I resisted the instinctive impulse that would have made me move away. Is
not modesty in such a case merely another stratagem of our coquetry? We
flee, the man pursues and the wrong impression is confirmed.

Standing in front of him, I frankly turned my eyes on his. Then he
softly repeated the same words.

Was it the exquisite modulation of his voice? Or again were the gentle,
friendly words the sudden revelation of a troubled life, a sensitive
soul ready to pour itself out in a single phrase and longing to
crystallise itself in one unparalleled second? They surprised me, those
words of his, they seemed to me new words, grave words, because I had
not believed that it was possible to speak them in that way to a
stranger, to speak them in a voice that asked for nothing.

My whole attitude must have betrayed my t