"Ah; love, oh! love, fair prince of youth."

That morning, contrary to his habits, Rodolphe had risen very early, and
although he had slept very little, he got up at once.

"Ah!" he exclaimed, "today is the great day. But then twelve hours to
wait. How shall I fill up these twelve eternities?"

And as his glance fell on his desk he seemed to see his pen wriggle as
though intending to say to him "Work."

"Ah! yes, work indeed! A fig for prose. I won't stop here, it reeks of
ink."

He went off and settled himself in a cafe where he was sure not to meet
any friends.

"They would see that I am in love," he thought, "and shape my ideal for
me in advance."

After a very brief repast he was off to the railway station, and got
into a train. Half an hour later he was in the woods of Ville d'Avray.

Rodolphe strolled about all day, let loose amongst rejuvenated nature,
and only returned to Paris at nightfall.

After having put the temple which was to receive his idol in nature,
Rodolphe arrayed himself for the occasion, greatly regretting not being
able to dress in white.