Impressed by the sight of this sad and touching picture, Catherine leaned on the balcony of the chalet, and remained a few minutes plunged in reverie.
Irene sat at her feet, and began to gather roses and honeysuckle to make a bouquet.
I leaned against the door, and could not help feeling a pang of anguish as I looked upon Madame de Fersen.
I was going to pass long days near this woman, so passionately loved, and delicacy forbade my speaking one word of this deep and ardent love, which circumstances recently had combined to increase.
I knew not if I was beloved, or, rather, I despaired of being loved; it seemed to me that fate, which had brought Madame de Fersen and me together, by the death-bed of her child, during a month of terrible anguish, had been too tragic to end in so tender a sentiment.
I was absorbed in these sad thoughts, when Madame de Fersen made a quick movement, as if she were aroused from a dream, and said to me, "Pardon me, but it is so long since I breathed air so fragrant and invigorating that I selfishly enjoy this lovely nature."
Irene divided her bouquet in two, gave one half to her mother, the other to me, and we then started towards the house.
We reached it after a long walk, for the park was very extensive.