It is the first time I have felt happiness in this way,” he continued. “Indeed it is the first time I have felt it at all....”
“Then don’t analyse it.”
“There is no need. It is standing before me in all its simplicity. Do you know why I am happy?”
“Don’t analyse, don’t analyse,” she repeated in alarm.
“No,” he said, “but may I tell you, without analysing?”
“No, don’t,” she stammered, “because ... because I know....”
She besought him, very pale, with folded, trembling hands. The child looked at them; it had closed its book, and come to sit down on its stool by its mother, with a look of gay sagacity in its pale-blue eyes.
“Then I obey you,” said Quaerts, with some difficulty.
And they were both silent, their eyes expanded as with the lustre of a vision. It seemed to be gently beaming about them through the pale ashen twilight.