"
LXXXI.
She believed it, and I myself believed it, as I spoke and raised my
hands imploringly towards her. We would part after such converse as
this, each preserving, to feed on it separately till the morrow, the
impression of the last look, the echo of the last tone, that were to
give us patience to live through the long, tedious day. When I had
crossed the threshold, I would see her open her window, lean forth amid
her flowers on the iron bar of the balcony, and follow my receding
figure as long as the misty vapors of the Seine allowed her to discern
it on the bridge. Again and again would I turn to send back a sigh and
a lingering look, and strive to tear away my soul, which would not be
parted from her. It seemed as if my very being were riven asunder,--my
spirit to return and dwell with her, while my body alone, as a mere
machine, slowly wended its way through the dark and deserted streets to
the door of the hotel where I dwelt.
LXXXII.
Thus passed away, without other change than that afforded by my
studies, and our ever-varying impressions, the delightful months of
winter.
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