There were also the
days of bad weather on which her governess, afraid, on her own account, of
the rain, would not bring Gilberte to the Champs-Elysees.
And so, if the heavens were doubtful, from early morning I would not cease
to interrogate them, observing all the omens. If I saw the lady opposite,
just inside her window, putting on her hat, I would say to myself: "That
lady is going out; it must, therefore, be weather in which one can go out.
Why should not Gilberte do the same as that lady?" But the day grew dark.
My mother said that it might clear again, that one burst of sunshine would
be enough, but that more probably it would rain; and if it rained, of what
use would it be to go to the Champs-Elysees? And so, from breakfast-time,
my anxious eyes never left the uncertain, clouded sky. It remained dark:
Outside the window, the balcony was grey. Suddenly, on its sullen stone, I
did not indeed see a less negative colour, but I felt as it were an effort
towards a less negative colour, the pulsation of a hesitating ray that
struggled to discharge its light. A moment later the balcony was as pale
and luminous as a standing water at dawn, and a thousand shadows from the
iron-work of its balustrade had come to rest on it.
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