I had with me the second volume of the “Travels of Spalanzani.” I opened it at hazard, and moved close to her; she rested her shoulder against mine, and we began to read upon the same page. Before turning the page she had always to wait for me. Her intellect ran quicker than mine did.
“Have you finished?” she asked, when I had hardly begun.
Our heads touched, our hair mingled together, and our respirations crossed each other, and then our lips met.
When we wished to begin reading again, the sky was studded with stars.
“Oh, mamma, mamma!” she exclaimed as she entered the house, “how we have been running!”
I kept silence.
“You say nothing, my boy,” said my mother. “You look sad.”
My heart was full of bliss.
I shall remember that evening until the last day of my life.
The last day of my life!