She sprang to him and embraced him, saying, "I love you, dear Paul." And no one would have suspected that she was saying to herself, "I must love him; he is worthy of my whole heart."
So time passed on. They had been traveling now for a couple of months, and, as February approached, they decided to return to Carqueirannes for a few weeks. Odette was changing gradually; growing gentler, sweeter and more loving, as the days drifted by in such dreamy tranquillity. After nights of feverish anxiety and sleepless despair, came this refreshing peace. Every day she grew happier, and more affectionately disposed towards her husband. The hours seemed to have wings. Mornings, they would stroll into the country, or explore the depths of the forest, as light-hearted and gay as two little children. Paul would stop from time to time to wreathe flowers in her hair. Suddenly, in front of them they would see the Mediterranean, and would sit down on the fresh grass to enjoy the lovely scene. Neither would say a word, but would listen to the voices of the forest. The birds, singing and chattering as they flew from branch to branch; the trees, nodding to each other as if they had some secrets to impart; the insects, buzzing and hiding in the grass and moss; the continual murmur that Nature has in her solitude, all combined to intoxicate the young couple. Sometimes Odette would spring up, saying: "The idyl has lasted long enough this morning. Let us go and get some lunch." So they would return, laughing and gay, for Odette was gay from morning till night in this new life. After lunch they would have music, and the rest of the day would pass so quickly that when night spread her dark mantle over the earth, they could hardly refrain from exclaiming, "What! already!"
Ah! if Paul had only had the key to her heart! But he was too passionately in love to notice the delicate shades of her character. He did not see that her nervous, feverish restlessness was slowly leaving her for ever. But he occasionally seemed to feel an intuition of something of the kind, for one night he said: "You remind me of that story in the Arabian Nights, where the only cure for the sick woman was marriage. You came to me an invalid, but when we return home you will be strong and well."
Odette started and grew pale. She felt she was not cured yet, but only on the road to health, and was sad and thoughtful for a few minutes. Her new happiness soon restored her cheerfulness, and the day passed as pleasantly as usual. The next day they strolled down to the beach and were soon in the midst of the immense rocks and boulders that the waves have dashed against for centuries.
Odette said: "Do you know what day of the month it is?"
"No."
"To-day is Thursday, the twelfth of February. Do you not remember it was the twelfth, and a Thursday, when you first spoke to me of love?" She added, "Would you have killed yourself, if I had refused your offer?"
"Do you doubt it?"
"No; but I was thinking that I am not worthy of such love. No one ought to throw away his life for a woman. And you, just entering life, would you have destroyed all your hopes and dreams of the future for such a weak creature as I am?"