"And why, monsieur?"
"Because I am possessed—devoured, perhaps, would be a better word—by such a continual desire to be moving, that for several years past, especially, I have not been able to remain a month in the same place. In short, I have a passion, perhaps I ought rather to say a positive mania, for travel."
"Strange to say, I, too, experience the same unconquerable restlessness, the same longing to be continually on the go, the same intense aversion to repose, and, like you, I, myself, have found a most welcome diversion in travel, for several years past," the young woman responded, smothering a sigh.
"So you, too, madame, have a horror of the dull, lethargic, monotonous life which reminds one of that of an oyster on his bank, or of a snail in his shell?"
"To me torpor and immobility are death itself, yes, worse than death, for, unfortunately, one must be conscious of this apathy of mind and body."
"And yet, there are persons—one can scarcely call them living beings—who would gladly remain for months, and even years, in the same place, lost in a sort of dreamy ecstasy, and enjoying what they style the charm of dolce far niente."
"Yes, monsieur, yes; there are such people, as I know only too well."
"So you have had a like experience, madame? So you, too, have seen how hopelessly intractable such persons are,—how they will eventually triumph over the strongest wills?"
And the two gazed at each other in a sort of bewilderment, so astonished were they by this strange similarity in their experiences.