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Updated: June 2, 2025
Were all those lovers, all those impudent shameless cupids about to step down from their panels and crowd around them? They already seemed to hear their panting sighs, and to feel their breath filling the spacious room with the perfume of voluptuousness. 'It's quite suffocating, isn't it? sighed Albine. 'In spite of every airing I have given it, the room has always seemed close to me!
Outside it had just begun to rain. 'Ah! well, there's a shower coming on! cried Desiree, throwing herself down on the straw. 'You had better stay where you are, my dears, if you don't want to get soaked. Then she turned to Albine and added: 'How stupid they all look, don't they? They only wake up just to eat! Albine still remained silent.
He stretched out his arm and caught hold of Albine, as though to draw her near him again; and when she, laughing, dropped upon her knees he grasped her elbows and gazed up at her. He knew not to what impulse he was yielding. But when she had freed herself, and again had risen to her feet, he buried his face amongst the grass where she had lain, and which still retained the warmth of her body.
It prevents him from flying. But it was the Cupids painted over the doors that more particularly attracted Serge's attention. He fidgeted at not being able to make out what they were playing at, for the paintings had grown very dim. Helped by Albine, he dragged a table to the wall, and when they both had climbed upon it, Albine began to explain things to him.
The thought of the little girl troubled him the most; he could already see womanly tenderness shining in the depths of her big, childish eyes. No! no! he would have no children. Nevertheless he resolved that he would flee with Albine that evening. But when the evening came, he felt too weary. So he deferred his flight till the next morning. He could not leave his sister alone with La Teuse.
The first rains had washed the traces of their footsteps from the sandy paths, the winds had swept every other lingering memorial into the underbrush. But Albine, with grief at her throat, shot out a protesting glance.
As a favourable specimen of his style, it will be sufficient to quote his definition of virtue: "Virtus, Albine, est pretium persolvere verum Quis in versamur, quis vivimus rebus potesse. Virtus est homini scire id quod quaeque habeat res. Virtus scire homini rectum, utile, quid sit honestum, Quae bona, quae mala item, quid inutile, turpe, inhonestum.
When they reached the parterre, they passed through an atmosphere of sweetest perfumes; the perfume of flowers at night, which is richer, more caressing than by day, and seems like the very breath of slumber. 'Good night, Serge. 'Good night, Albine. They clasped each other by the hand on the landing of the first floor, without entering the room where they usually wished each other good night.
A religious silence reigned beneath the giant arches, the ground below lay hard as stone in its austere nakedness; not a blade of green was there, nought but a ruddy dust of dead leaves. And Serge and Albine listened to their ringing footsteps as they went on, thrilled by the majestic solitude of this temple.
A heavy step set the pebbles rolling on the other side of the wall. A growl of anger seemed to draw nigh. Albine had not been mistaken. Some one was, indeed, there, disturbing the woodland quiet with jealous inquisition. Then both Albine and Serge, as if overwhelmed with shame, sought to bide themselves behind a bush. But Brother Archangias, standing in front of the breach, could already see them.
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