"But come in," said Adelaide, who had no doubt heard him come
down from the studio.
The painter followed, bashful and out of countenance, not knowing
what to say, happiness had so dulled his wit. To see Adelaide, to
hear the rustle of her skirt, after longing for a whole morning
to be near her, after starting up a hundred time--"I will go down
now"--and not to have gone; this was to him life so rich that
such sensations, too greatly prolonged, would have worn out his
spirit. The heart has the singular power of giving extraordinary
value to mere nothings. What joy it is to a traveler to treasure
a blade of grass, an unfamiliar leaf, if he has risked his life
to pluck it! It is the same with the trifles of love.
The old lady was not in the drawing-room. When the young girl
found herself there, alone with the painter, she brought a chair
to stand on, to take down the picture; but perceiving that she
could not unhook it without setting her foot on the chest of
drawers, she turned to Hippolyte, and said with a blush:
"I am not tall enough. Will you get it down?"
A feeling of modesty, betrayed in the expression of her face and
the tones of her voice, was the real motive of her request; and
the young man, understanding this, gave her one of those glances
of intelligence which are the sweetest language of love. Seeing
that the painter had read her soul, Adelaide cast down her eyes
with the instinct of reserve which is the secret of a maiden's
heart.
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