Guillaume and her cousin were pushed to within a few steps of the
second picture. Chance thus brought them, both together, to where they
could easily see the canvas made famous by fashion, for once in
agreement with talent. Madame Roguin's exclamation of surprise was
lost in the hubbub and buzz of the crowd; Augustine involuntarily shed
tears at the sight of this wonderful study. Then, by an almost
unaccountable impulse, she laid her finger on her lips, as she
perceived quite near her the ecstatic face of the young painter. The
stranger replied by a nod, and pointed to Madame Roguin, as a
spoil-sport, to show Augustine that he had understood. This pantomime
struck the young girl like hot coals on her flesh; she felt quite guilty
as she perceived that there was a compact between herself and the artist.
The suffocating heat, the dazzling sight of beautiful dresses, the
bewilderment produced in Augustine's brain by the truth of coloring,
the multitude of living or painted figures, the profusion of gilt
frames, gave her a sense of intoxication which doubled her alarms. She
would perhaps have fainted if an unknown rapture had not surged up in
her heart to vivify her whole being, in spite of this chaos of
sensations. She nevertheless believed herself to be under the power of
the Devil, of whose awful snares she had been warned of by the
thundering words of preachers. This moment was to her like a moment of
madness. She found herself accompanied to her cousin's carriage by the
young man, radiant with joy and love. Augustine, a prey to an
agitation new to her experience, an intoxication which seemed to
abandon her to nature, listened to the eloquent voice of her heart,
and looked again and again at the young painter, betraying the emotion
that came over her. Never had the bright rose of her cheeks shown in
stronger contrast with the whiteness of her skin. The artist saw her
beauty in all its bloom, her maiden modesty in all its glory. She
herself felt a sort of rapture mingled with terror at thinking that