"No it didn't! Truly it didn't. Besides, you're not Cinderella to-day, you're Snowdrop. You mustn't change parts as fast as that. It isn't Cinderella until to-morrow."
"I'm afraid I forgot."
"Of course you did. Come now, and play."
She shook her head, and then half whispered, looking wistfully into his face, "My clock is always striking."
They stood close to one another. The sun shining through the leaves on her young face showed all its beauty; the small mouth with its delicately curved upper lip; the line of hair over the forehead, two graceful curves that came together in a little peak; the deep, shining eyes that dropped now under his gaze.
"Just one kiss," he pleaded.
She shook her head, and he could see her hand clench as though to stop her trembling.
His own trembled as he placed it over hers and stood so close that, though he did not touch her, his presence felt like an embrace.
All the emotions of the night of which she had believed herself master returned, but with redoubled strength. Her whole self, the slender body, the delicate senses, the shy spirit that before had rested happy in the love of home and wood and river, was a wild tumult of passionate desire. To lift up her face and kiss him would be to enter through the golden gates of paradise. But while her heart beat so fast that the blood flooded her cheeks and she was Snowdrop no longer, she did not raise her head.
And then a cock that had strayed from its family among the pines and wandered in their direction raised itself upon its toes and began to crow.