It was a brilliant day, and the world rejoiced. I tasted the savor of living. In spite of myself I fell into the nervous, elastic step of old and drank in the living air like an intoxicating elixir.
An idea took lodgment—he was familiar with this scene, these crabbed shops, hostile promenaders, and square of bourgeoning; he had walked on these cobblestones; and at the edge of the town was his little summer villa. The idea went round and round, very fast; and I was weak; so I clutched at it for support.
Another veiled woman in black....
That figure tending to heaviness but graceful and in the very mould of femininity is not unfamiliar. I have seen the woman before. You can tell from a distance that she wears the mark of the widow, a hood-like hat faced with white.
She too;...
I am interested in her. In the country you are interested in everybody you meet.
Who is she, I wonder. She seems to be about forty, but neither her hair nor her cheeks have lost their freshness. Who....
My heart bursts, alarm comes rushing, misfortune approaches.... She walks toward me—she is only a few feet away.... If she would only stop ... it is she ... his wife!