The garden gate was opened rather hastily as though the wind had forced it. Irinel appeared. She looked all round, then, seeing me, she flew towards me. The breeze which she made by her flight fluttered her thin gown of white batiste with black spots.
She was pale. She took my hand. Her own trembled. She tried to speak, and said several times:
“Wait, wait, wait while I get my breath——”
Then she became silent and looked at me. Oh, what a look! Her eyes flashed sparks. Their blue depths seemed to me like an incomprehensible ocean, tempest driven, without bottom, without boundaries. I looked down, overwhelmed by an inexplicable fear, by a powerful emotion. I noticed my boots, and I thought to myself: “Have they cleaned my boots to-day or not? Of course, they must have. Don’t they clean them every day?”
“Iorgu, do you know why that old man has come?”
“No,” I answered her, with a stupid calm.
Had they cleaned my boots? Perhaps the dew was still on the grass.
“Iorgu, do you know what Father said to me?”
“No.”
“‘Put on your foulard gown.’”