happiness, and more
charm.

Since he had been in love with her, he said, he had walked so lightly and
was supported by such joy that his feet did not touch the earth. He had
only one fear, which was that he might be dreaming, and might awake
unknown to her. Doubtless he was only dreaming. And what a dream! He was
like one intoxicated and singing. He had not his reason, happily. Absent,
he saw her continually. "Yes, I see you near me; I see your lashes
shading eyes the gray of which is more delicious than all the blue of the
sky and the flowers; your lips, which have the taste of a marvellous
fruit; your cheeks, where laughter puts two adorable dimples; I see you
beautiful and desired, but fleeing and gliding away; and when I open my
arms, you have gone; and I see you afar on the long, long beach, not
taller than a fairy, in your pink gown, under your parasol. Oh, so
small!--small as you were one day when I saw you from the height of the
Campanile in the square at Florence. And I say to myself, as I said that
day: 'A bit of grass would suffice to hide her from me, yet she is for me
the infinite of joy and of pain.'"

He complained of the torments of absence. And he mingled with his
complaints the smiles of fortunate love. He threatened jokingly to
surprise her at Dinard. "Do not be afraid. They will not recognize me. I
shall be disguised as a vender of plaster images. It will not be a lie.
Dressed in gray tunic and trousers, my beard and face covered with white
dust, I shall ring the bell of the Montessuy villa. You may recognize me,
Therese, by the statuettes on the plank placed on my head. They will all
be cupids. There will be faithful Love, jealous Love, tender Love, vivid
Love; there will be many vivid Loves. And I shall shout in the rude and
sonorous language of the artisans of Pisa or of Florence: 'Tutti gli
Amori per la Signora Teersinal!"

The last page of this letter was tender and grave. There were pious
effusions in it which reminded Therese of the prayer-books she read when
a child. "I love you, and I love everything in you: the earth that
carries you, on which you weigh so lightly, and which you embellish; the
light that allows me to see you; the air you breathe. I like the bent
tree of my yard because you have seen it. I have walked tonight on the
avenue where I met you one winter night. I have culled a branch of the
boxwood at which you looked. In this city, where you are not, I see only
you."

He s