"Listen, my Ramuntcho--I am like you: I am afraid of her--of my
mother--But listen--if she refuses, we shall do together anything,
anything that you wish, for this is the only thing in the world in which
I shall not obey her--"

Then, silence returned between them, now that they were engaged, the
incomparable silence of young joys, of joys new and not yet tried, which
need to hush, which need to meditate in order to understand themselves
better in their profoundness. They walked in short steps and at random
toward the church, in the soft obscurity which the lanterns troubled no
longer, intoxicated by their innocent contact and by feeling that they
were walking together in the path where no one had followed them--

But the noise of the brass instruments suddenly arose anew, in a sort
of slow waltz, oddly rhythmic. And the two children, at the fandango's
appeal, without having consulted each other, and as if it was a
compulsory thing which may not be disputed, ran, not to lose a moment,
toward the place where the couples were dancing. Quickly, quickly
placing themselves opposite each other, they began again to swing in
measure, without talking to each other, with the same pretty gestures
of their arms, the same supple motions of their hips. From time to
time, without loss of step or distance, both ran, in a direct line like
arrows. But this was only an habitual variation of the dance,--and, ever
in measure, quickly, as if they were gliding, they returned to their
starting point.

Gracieuse had in dancing the same passionate ardor as in praying at the
white chapels,--the same ardor which later doubtless, she would have in
embracing Ramuntcho when caresses between them would not be forbidden.
And at moments, at every fifth or sixth measure, at the same time as
her light and strong partner, she turned round completely, the bust bent
with Spanish grace, the head thrown backward, the lips half open on
the whiteness of the teeth, a distinguished and proud grace disengaging
itself from her little personality, still so mysterious, which to
Ramuntcho only revealed itself a little.

During all this beautiful evening of November, they danced before each
other, mute and charming, with intervals of promenade in which they
hardly talked--intoxicated in silence by the delicious thought with
which their minds were filled.

And, until the curfew rang in the church, this dance under the branches
of autumn, these little lanterns, th