She blushed deeply, and softly pressed my hand when I gave her the fan.
I understood what it meant.
Don Luiz offered his arm, and they went away.
Returning home, I have just written the details of this day, which was apparently so devoid of interest and yet has been filled with charming episodes. Yes, a series of charming little episodes. Nothing in themselves, but the making of a memorable day when linked together. It is, then, a bouquet composed of a thousand happy souvenirs as intoxicating as the perfume of a thousand sweet-smelling flowers.
IV
APRIL, 18—.
I went to her house at three o'clock.
I found her as tender and affectionate as ever, but serious, pensive, and almost sad.
There was no regret or reproachfulness in this sadness; it was a calm, melancholy mood, a sweet reverie. All her thoughts were elevated and serious.
I was amazed at this change in her.