Inlaid with gold by the slanting sun we lead each other, hand in hand,
as far as the statue of Flora, which once upon a time a lord of the
manor raised on the fringe of the wood. Against the abiding background
of distant heights the goddess stands, half-naked, in the beautiful
ripe light. Her fair hips are draped with a veil of still whiter
stone, like a linen garment. Before the old moss-mellowed pedestal I
pressed Marie desperately to my heart. Then, in the sacred solitude of
the wood, I put my hands upon her, and so that she might be like the
goddess I unfastened her black bodice, lowered the ribbon
shoulder-straps of her chemise, and laid bare her wide and rounded
bosom.

She yielded to the adoration with lowered head, and her eyes
magnificently troubled, red-flushing with blood and sunshine.

I put my lips on hers. Until that day, whenever I kissed her, her lips
submitted. This time she gave me back my long caress, and even her
eyes closed upon it. Then she stands there with her hands crossed on
her glorious throat, her red, wet lips ajar. She stands there, apart,
yet united to me, and her heart on her lips.

She has covered her bosom again. The breeze is suddenly gusty. The
apple trees in the orchards are shaken and scatter bird-like jetsam in
space; and in that bright green paddock yonder the rows of out-hung
linen dance in the sunshine. The sky darkens; the wind rises and
prevails. It was that very day of the gale. It assaults our two
bodies on the flank of the hill; it comes out of infinity and sets
roaring the tawny forest foliage. We can see its agitation behind the
black grille of the trunks. It makes us dizzy to watch the swift