"
They sat on the bench where he had sat. She was getting joy out of the
colour of the moss, the tints of the beeches, every little shade and shape
of nature, and letting Paul see with her eyes.
And all the while she was nestling near him like a tender ring-dove to her
mate. Paul's heart swelled with exultation. He felt good, as if he could
be kind to every one, as if his temper were a thing to be ashamed of, and
all his faults, as if for ever he must be her own true knight and
defender, and show her he was worthy of this great gift and joy. And ah!
how could he put into words his tender worshipping love?
So the afternoon faded into evening, and the young crescent moon began to
show in the sky--a slender moon of silver, only born the night before.
"See, this is our moon," said the lady, "and as she waxes, so will our
love wax--but now she is young and fresh and fair, like it. Come, my Paul.
Let us go to our house; soon we shall dine, and I want to be beautiful for
you."
So they went in to their little hotel.
She was all in white when Paul found her in their inner salon, where they
were to dine alone, waited on only by Dmitry. Her splendid hair was bound
with a fillet of gold, and fell in two long strands, twisted with gold,
nearly to her knees.
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