"Credit me, Évariste, with all the sentiments you would have me feel for you, and you will not be mistaken in the dispositions of my heart."
"Élodie, Élodie, you say that? will you still say it when you know ..."—he hesitated.
She dropped her eyes; and he finished the sentence in a whisper:
"... when you know I love you?"
As she heard the declaration, she blushed,—with pleasure. Yet, while her eyes still spoke of a tender ecstasy, a quizzical smile flickered in spite of herself about one corner of her lips. She was thinking:
"And he imagines he proposed first!... and he is afraid perhaps of offending me!..."
Then she said to him fondly:
"So you had never seen, dear heart, that I loved you?"
They seemed to themselves to be alone, the only two beings in the universe. In his exaltation, Évariste raised his eyes to the firmament flashing with blue and gold:
"See, the sky is looking down at us! It is benign; it is adorable, as you are, beloved; it has your brightness, your gentleness, your smile."