ThensuddenlyhesawherinthegardenatTostes，onabenchagainstthethornhedge，orelseatRoueninthestreets，onthethresholdoftheirhouse，intheyardatBertaux。Heagainheardthelaughterofthehappyboysbeneaththeapple-trees：theroomwasfilledwiththeperfumeofherhair；andherdressrustledinhisarmswithanoiselikeelectricity。Thedresswasstillthesame。
Foralongwhilehethusrecalledallhislostjoys，herattitudes，hermovements，thesoundofhervoice。Upononefitofdespairfollowedanother，andevenothers，inexhaustibleasthewavesofanoverflowingsea。
Aterriblecuriosityseizedhim。Slowly，withthetipsofbisfingers，palpitating，heliftedherveil。Butheutteredacryofhorrorthatawoketheothertwo。
Theydraggedhimdownintothesitting-room。ThenFelicitecameuptosaythathewantedsomeofherhair。
“Cutsomeoff，“repliedthedruggist。