"Better not disturb Gratienne. She's so suspicious. Whom shall I write to, then? My colleagues? No, I'm not on intimate enough terms. Gauvain, the animal-shop man? That would be humiliating. What a bore it all is! Leave it; we'll see later on. And after all, what's the matter? A little sentimental friendship. Rose lives such a lonely life. Why should I rob her of the innocent pleasure of playing at sentiment with me? Summer-holiday amusements..."
"Oh," said Rose, "look at that beetle. Isn't he handsome?"
But the animal, superb in its gold and sapphire armour, had disappeared under the dead leaves. They thought no more about it. Rose was occupied by very different thoughts. She felt herself filled with an exultant tenderness.
"I don't belong to myself any more. It's very thrilling. What is going to happen? He'll kiss me on the eyes. There'll be no resisting, because I belong to him."
She lifted her head and looked at M. Hervart. She seemed to be offering her eyes. Without changing her position she closed
