It was with some difficulty that I decided to look at the Naiad. I found her less beautiful than the memory left me of her whose form and features she recalled. Then, gradually, I began to admire and love it, as one cherishes a portrait which in general appearance and in some of the features at least, resembles a beloved one. My feelings had been contained and over excited for so long a time that I burst into tears and, overwhelmed with emotion, remained seated on the spot where I had beheld one whom I no longer hoped to see.
The sound of a silken robe caused me to raise my head, and I saw before me a very tall and slender woman, but of most graceful mien, who regarded me anxiously. For an instant I confounded her with my vision, but the darkness which was rapidly advancing prevented me from clearly distinguishing her face, and besides a woman in panniers and furbelows so little resembles a nymph of the renaissance, that my illusions were quickly dispelled, and I arose to salute her simply as a mortal.
She also bowed, hesitated for an instant to address me, then decided to do so, and I trembled at the sound of her voice which penetrated to the very core of my being. ’Twas the silvery voice, the voice without its equal upon earth, of the divinity. And I was dumb and incapable of replying. As when in the presence of my immortal nymph, I was too bewildered to understand what she was saying.
She seemed greatly embarrassed by my silence, and I made an effort to shake off this absurd stupor. She asked me if I were not M. Just Nivières.
“Yes, madame,” I at last answered. “I beg of you to pardon my preoccupation. I was a little indisposed, I was dozing.”
“No,” replied she with adorable sweetness, “you were weeping! That was what drew me here from the gallery where I was awaiting the signal of my brother’s arrival.”
“Your brother?”
“Yes, your friend, Bernard d’Aillane.”
“So you are Mademoiselle d’Aillane?”
“Félicie d’Aillane, and I dare affirm your friend also, although you do not know me and I am seeing you for the first time. But the high opinion my brother has of you and all that he has written about you have caused me to feel a sincere interest in you. So it was with real sorrow and anxiety that I heard you sobbing. Mon dieu! I hope that you are not grieving over any family affliction; if your worthy parents of whom I have also heard so much good, were in trouble, you would not be here.”