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"Oh! yes, yes, go! do not look so, my darling!" she cried, kissing him
on the eyes that had flashed such flames.
Under these circumstances Calyste often came near losing the fruit of
Camille's plot through the Breton fury of his love, of which he was
ceasing to be the master. Finally, he swore to himself, in spite of
his promise to Felicite, to see Beatrix, and speak to her. He wanted
to read her eyes, to bathe in their light, to examine every detail of
her dress, breathe its perfume, listen to the music of her voice,
watch the graceful composition of her movements, embrace at a glance
the whole figure, and study her as a general studies the field where
he means to win a decisive battle. He willed as lovers will; he was
grasped by desires which closed his ears and darkened his intellect,
and threw him into an unnatural state in which he was conscious of
neither obstacles, nor distances, nor the existence even of his own
body.
One morning he resolved to go to Les Touches at an earlier hour than
that agreed upon, and endeavor to meet Beatrix in the garden.


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