But, don't you see, I really had to fasten the flowers; they would
have fallen out if I hadn't. Like that, now; if I just push them a little
farther down.... Seriously, I'm not annoying you, am I? And if I just
sniff them to see whether they've really lost all their scent? I don't
believe I ever smelt any before; may I? Tell the truth, now."
Still smiling, she shrugged her shoulders ever so slightly, as who should
say, "You're quite mad; you know very well that I like it."
He slipped his other hand upwards along Odette's cheek; she fixed her eyes
on him with that languishing and solemn air which marks the women of the
old Florentine's paintings, in whose faces he had found the type of hers;
swimming at the brink of her fringed lids, her brilliant eyes, large and
finely drawn as theirs, seemed on the verge of breaking from her face and
rolling down her cheeks like two great tears. She bent her neck, as all
their necks may be seen to bend, in the pagan scenes as well as in the
scriptural. And although her attitude was, doubtless, habitual and
instinctive, one which she knew to be appropriate to such moments, and was
careful not to forget to assume, she seemed to need all her strength to
hold her face back, as though some invisible force were drawing it down
towards Swann's.
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