eyes there lurked a hidden tenderness, and who walked with languid grace,
filled my heart with agitation.

Without knowing how or why, I found myself on the banks of the Seine.
Steamboats were starting for Suresnes, and suddenly I was seized by an
unconquerable wish to have a walk through the woods. The deck of the
_mouche_[1] was crowded with passengers, for the sun in early spring
draws you out of the house, in spite of yourself, and everybody moves
about, goes and comes, and talks to his neighbor.

[Footnote 1: Fly.]

I had a female neighbor; a little work-girl, no doubt, who possessed
the true Parisian charm; a little head, with light curly hair, which
looked like frizzed light, came down to her ears and descended to the
nape of her neck, danced in the wind, and then became such fine, such
light-colored down, that one could scarcely see it, but on which one
felt an irresistible desire to impress a shower of kisses.

Under the magnetism of my looks, she turned her head towards me, and then
immediately looked down, while a slight fold, which looked as if she were
ready to break out into a smile, also showed that fine, silky, pale down
which the sun was gilding a little.

The calm river grew wider; the atmosphere was warm and perfectly still,
but a murmur of life seemed to fill all space.

My neighbor raised her eyes again, and, this time, as I was still looking
at her, she smiled, decidedly. She was charming like that, and in her
passing glance, I saw a thousand things, which I had hitherto been