more than a series of light sensations, a pretext for amusing observations...."
The afternoon was drawing on. They had to think of the commissions which Mme Des Boys had given them.... It was time to go down.
"How dark the staircase is," said Rose. "Give me your hand."
At the bottom, as though to thank him for his help, she offered her cheek. His kiss settled on the corner of her mouth. Rose recoiled, warned of danger by this new sensation that was too intimate, too intense. But in the process of moving away, she came near to falling. Her hands clutched at his, and she found herself once more leaning towards M. Hervart. They looked at one another for a moment. Rose shut her eyes and waited for a renewal of the burning touch.
"I hope you haven't hurt yourself."
She burst out laughing.
"That," said M. Hervart to himself, "is what is called being self controlled. And then she laughs at me for it. Such are the fruits of virtue."
They went into almost all the shops in the
