me with such horror!"

And she came quietly and sat down again beside the fountain.

2

For the third time, I began to coil and uncoil her hair:

"You see, I was wrong just now," I said, "when I uncovered your neck and
crowned your forehead. This is what suits you: the severe Roman style!
And, though that loathing which you expressed just now seems to me
unnatural, I feel almost tempted to excuse it in you, because it is so
much in keeping with your impassive loveliness."

Kneeling in front of her, I tried to make the folds of the material
follow the natural curves of her body. Meanwhile, Rose seemed to be
watching other reflections in the water than ours. Suddenly, she leant
forward and put her beautiful bronzed arms round my neck; and I felt
that she was willing me to look up. Then I raised my head and, when we
were gazing into each other's eyes, she said, laying a sort of grave
stress on every syllable:

"Do you forgive everything, absolutely everything?"

"To answer yes is not answering half enough," I said. And, kissing her,
I added, "If you had to tell me of a serious fault, I should love to
give proof of my indulgence; but are you not the best of girls?"

I had an impression, for a second, that she was hesitating and that I
was about to receive the solemn confession of a childish fault. But she
at once replied, in a decisive little way:

"I could not be as indulgent as you, really!"

"Because you are not so happy yet, my dearest.... Come, I have my own
reasons for spoiling you and coaxing you and wanting you to be
beautiful. I know what good fruits are born of those flowers of joy!...
But I have finished my work. Get up, Rose, come with me! Come and see
yourself a goddess!"

And I carried her off to the drawing-room.

Straight and slender in the long white folds falling to her feet, the
girl stands before the mirror and stares with astonishment at her
glorified image. Does she grasp the importance of this hour? Does she
reflect that, at this minute, one of the great secrets of her destiny
has been revealed to me by this woman's game which has given me a
child's pleasure? Does she know that the moment is grave, unmatched and
marvellous and that, by my friendly hands, chance is to-day showing her
the power which she can wield and the realm over which she can rule?

Her everyday clothes are lying at her feet: the coarse chemise, the
barbarous bodice, the hat trimmed with faded ribbons. Ah, Roseline