talking to me about what we had seen during our trip. All that I had felt
he translated into words; everything that made me thrill he understood
perfectly, better than I did myself. And all of a sudden he repeated some
verses of Alfred de Musset. I felt myself choking, seized with
indescribable emotion. It seemed to me that the mountains themselves, the
lake, the moonlight, were singing to me about things ineffably sweet.

"And it happened, I don't know how, I don't know why, in a sort of
hallucination.

"As for him, I did not see him again till the morning of his departure.

"He gave me his card!"

And, sinking into her sister's arms, Madame Letore broke into groans
--almost into shrieks.

Then, Madame Roubere, with a self-contained and serious air, said very
gently:

"You see, sister, very often it is not a man that we love, but love
itself. And your real lover that night was the moonlight."




THE FIRST SNOWFALL

The long promenade of La Croisette winds in a curve along the edge of the
blue water. Yonder, to the right, Esterel juts out into the sea in the